


It Isn't Me, The Enemy

by RobNips



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Bandits & Outlaws, Branwen Tribe actually has a culture, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Royalty, Self-Indulgent, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-05-30 05:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 51,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15089981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobNips/pseuds/RobNips
Summary: After a failed war against the Branwen Tribe of Anima, Jacques Schnee of Atlas gives up his eldest daughter as a path to peace. With Raven Branwen already wed to a Xiao-Long of Vale, Winter was handed off to marry her right hand and brother, Qrow Branwen.





	1. I Have Hope in Silence

**Author's Note:**

> I had kind of a dumb idea, that turned into a more fleshed out idea, so I ran with it. This is technically an AU, but more of an alternative timeline than a whole other universe, enjoy!

The horn blew once, a short blast. Winter opened her eyes and stopped her calming breaths. Eyes closed, deep breath in, feel her aura surging through her bones, and out again. She would not look frightened. She would not show her anger. She was poised, and strong, and capable of handling savages. She was here to fix her Father’s mistakes, and if one Branwen even thought of harming her, her father would hear about it, and this foolish alliance would be broken.

It was all the Xiao-Long's fault, really, Winter had concluded during her long journey here. If the Dragon hadn’t accepted a quick marriage to Raven Branwen and united the powerful Vale with brutal West Mistral, then there wouldn’t be any threat against Atlas when Jacques Schnee invaded for the possibility of more dust mines. Schnee’s foolish attempt at fighting the Branwens for land had dragged in the Xiao-Longs, and Atlas had never been so ultimately defeated. Three years of fighting had earned them nothing. And with the threat of another war, this time on Atlas ground, other methods towards peace had to be used. Jacques Schnee had a daughter, Avani Branwen had a son. They could be married, and make peace. And Winter was now a hostage under the guise of a wife, thrown at the feet of savages and told to beg for mercy.

The horn blew again, this time twice, both long. They were approaching the camp. One of the Branwen’s many, she assumed. They moved so often, it was impossible to attack them at the heart. All of them warriors, all earned their place among their Tribe, and all united under Raven Branwen in Western Anima’s harsh territory. Not even the Emperor in Mistral bothered to control the Tribe, any villages would turn against the kingdom as soon as they could. Anything to save their villages. The stories Winter had been told - what anyone who aligned themselves with the Branwens would do to those who didn’t - were more horrifying than the monstrous tales of the Grimm.

Still, Winter sat quietly in her transport that brought her closer to these savages, gloved hands folded perfectly over her lap. Her serving girl, Nadine, sat silently across from her, looking at her shoes. It was warmer in Anima, though Winter still wore her long sleeved dresses and gloves, scarf to cover her neck. She’d do her duty, ensure Atlas was safe so the Schnee name could live on. The people under her father’s care would thank her, life would carry on there. Perhaps in time, Weiss would grow and prove to be a great heiress in her place. That would be worth it, hopefully.

She glanced through her transport’s window to see high, spiked walls of this camp. It seemed more like a military base than a home. Though, Winter supposed, brutes didn’t see the need to beautify their homes as they did in Atlas. They had nothing to be proud of. Men and women lined the top of the wall, some with crossbows, other just watching. Inside were sharp red and black tents, some only fit for one person, others for whole families. Nothing was permanent, save for one stone and wood hall near the edge of camp. She heard some snippets of conversations of among the people, in the common language, though with the rough, Animaen drawl. They rode onward until they reached the center clearing, a crowd watching, some sniggering and others staring in apathy.

Winter was helped out of her transport, Nadine bowing and backing away. Winter folded her hands together and steadily continued forward, a line of people on a raised platform watching her silently. Three in the center with red eyes, wild black hair, she could pick out her future husband instantly. Qrow, they called him. A simple name for simple people, nothing elegant or thoughtful about it. He didn’t quite a look a warrior, certainly not someone called a Harbinger of Death. He was tall, almost lanky, and hair that looked as if it were cut brazenly with a blade. Red eyes, the same as the other two on the dais. He didn’t smile, though no look of discontent was on his face either. Winter saw him clench his jaw, and look to a young woman beside him.

It must have been his sister who stood to his side, blazing red eyes and feathery hair barely tied back from her face. Raven Branwen was almost every bit of intimidation Winter had heard about her. She stood tall with her arms over her chest, bulky sheath strapped to her waist, though the red sword that killed so many Atlesians remained hidden. Raven looked Winter up and down, though judging her worth.

 _Let her judge_. Winter thought, not hesitating a step towards the family. She had been surprising people all her life. It couldn’t be hard to impress a band like this.

The man on the other side of the dais, however, was the one who came closest to sending a shiver down her spine. Taller than his son, though with longer and graying hair, no weapon to be seen around him, and shoulders as wide as an ox. Avani Branwen was known from before this war had started. Ruthless and unforgiving, he had taken the reigns of the Branwen Tribe and singlehandedly united nearly every other bandit clan in western Anima. A network of tribes spanning a continent, attacking everything but each other. It took wars upon wars, Avani lost all three of his brothers in the fighting, but any tribe who turned against the Branwens eventually found themselves smothered into dust. Some rebellion here or there over the years, one or two clans who refused to follow them at all. As soon as he found his daughter capable, he handed the title of Chief to Raven, who was quickly making a name for herself. Though everyone still held respect for the man.

Winter didn’t want to imagine what he would decide to do to an outsider like herself if he decided she was not worth the peace her father needed. She held her chin high, squaring her shoulders but did not tense them, she would not look afraid. Schnees were ice and steel, they did not cower. With all the other eyes staring down at her, Winter knew any sliver of fear would be eaten up the moment they got the chance to pounce on her. She locked eyes with Qrow, who raised a brow and glanced to his father.

Avani looked her up and down, mirroring his daughter, and took his time measuring Winter’s worth. Still, she said nothing, remaining straight in her posture and calm in her breaths. Others around her started to whisper, others looked bored. Raven leaned towards Qrow, he whispered something that made her almost roll her eyes before she stopped. The chief raised a hand, and the crowd quieted as Raven stepped forward.

“Winter Schnee, you are what your father promised us, my brother agrees. We accept this bond between our people.” Raven said gracefully, and carefully. Winter was surprised at how young her voice sounded, though the twins were only a few years older than her. Her words were smooth, without the savage drawl she had heard from some of the whispering tribesmen around her.

Winter did not let the surprise show, but raised her chin and lowered into a curtsy. “I am honored. To be wed to a strong man, and to bring peace between us.”

Raven made a sound like a scoff, but Winter did not look twice to check. “I’m sure you are.” She waved a hand, and Winter rose. Two of the Tribe flanked her, and she did allow herself to look back to her familiar servant near the transport in a flash of surprise. “Show her to her tent, let her people take the heiress’s things. And help me celebrate my brother’s marriage.” Raven ended with a smirk, the others in the crowd cheered.

All at once the Branwen Tribe seemed to forget Winter was ever there. They mobbed together, Winter heard the opening of bottles, someone started playing a fiddle, another a low horn, but she seemed to be forgotten about all together. The women who had taken her arms led her through the crowd. One laughed at someone in the crowd, and the other threw a playful punch at someone else. She looked back up at the dais where the Branwens stood. Avani already gone, Raven had a hand on her brother’s shoulder and whispered something in his ear, though it was impossible to hear above the noise around her.

She was led to a red tent, though it seemed large enough to fit her transport inside. A fire was already started in the center, bed covered with furs and a rug covered the ground under it. Lanterns lined the beams holding the tent up, already lit. There was a beaten up desk that seemed to also serve as a table, with beside it what looked like a brand new, oak chest with gold trimmings. No doubt stolen, all bandits knew how to do was steal.

“Do not spread your things too far.” The woman behind her advised. Winter barely stifled a flinch when she saw the spotted leopard tail swishing back and forth, the thick Menagerie accent becoming more obvious. “Take what is closest to you and keep it by your side, or you will not have these things for long.” She pointed her tail to the trunks of things her serving man was dragging into the tent. The Faunus smirked at Winter before exiting the tent.

Alone, Winter heeded her advice. She expected nothing else of the liars and thieves that bandits were proud to be. As soon as she turned her back, she supposed there would be thieves coming to her tent, taking jewels or other things they think they could get away with. Winter could hope perhaps once she was married they might think twice of crossing her, but before she proved she had any strength, it was doubtful.

She dashed to her trunk, rooting through her gowns to find Shattered Ice. The delicate saber was the one thing she had to sneak away from her father. Jacques had put an end to her sword lessons as soon as her heard about them, but her mother managed to keep her saber for her. She had practiced in secret, honing her semblance to bend to her will, simple glyphs came easy. At home it was easy to play with her abilities, she could fend off a few attackers, but she wasn’t a master.

Here, among seemingly endless waves of enemies who no doubt hated her family for trying to take land away from them, even the smallest weapon would be useful. Part of this alliance was for Winter to remain unharmed, though with the first bandit she’s met only giving a warning, her doubts rose higher.

She wrapped her hand tight around the hilt of her blade, feeling the perfect balance, the expert craftsmanship that could only come from Atlas smiths. Everything else in her trunks seemed suddenly useless to her. Her sword now her only true necessity in a place like this. She would need to find time to hone her skills, improve on what she could. Winter had always been fast, with swordplay and with her wits. A little hot tempered, but she had a feeling that among these bandits that wasn’t rare.

A shot rang out from the party outside, though people started laughing. She clutched Shattered Ice closer to her chest, and only prayed she would be left alone for the night.

* * *

Raven laughed when she walked in his tent, seeing Qrow sulk was always amusing to her. She cleared a spot at the table, pushing aside maps and strategy they didn’t need anymore. She pulled out a chair, grabbed a glass and kicked her feet up on the table across from him. “At least she’s pretty.”

Qrow scoffed, swirling the drink in his glass. “Sure, white hair and blue eyes, just what I wanted.”

“I know what you wanted.” Raven scoffed, ignoring Qrow’s glare. “A silver eyed Rose who’s probably on the other side of the world. Really, brother, you have to forget about her. Besides, this one’s taller, and-”

“Enough.”

“Still, better you than me.” Raven shrugged. Qrow rolled his eyes. “I’m serious,” she laughed, shaking the table with a kick. “If she ever comes around to tolerate any of us, I think you could do it. Put all your charm to good use.”

Qrow huffed out a breath, sinking in his chair. "You've never called it 'charm' before." Cheers were heard outside the tent, the camp still roaring from celebration. No doubt someone had beaten someone else in a brutal match. Bets were won or lost, though by the sound of it, mostly won. Ever since Winter Schnee and her small party had arrived this afternoon, the Tribe had used the coming wedding as an excuse to fight, and drink to their hearts’ content. Wasn’t rare, they’d use any excuse to do just that.

Any time before now, Qrow would be right out there with them, as proud as any Branwen to do whatever he pleased. He’s proven himself over and over again, it’s less that what he deserves. Now, with the Schnee girl a few tents over probably scared out of her mind, he didn’t feel like adding to it. No matter much he despised her kingdom, or how she looked down on all of them as soon as she stepped onto their lands.

“She hates us.” He shrugged, sipping at his glass. “She’s good at playing her part, but you saw it in her eyes just like I did. I don’t think there’s enough charm in the world to douse that fire.”

“That’s what everyone said about the Dragon of Vale.” Raven hummed, rocking her feet back and forth on the table. The smug grin gave Qrow enough to know what she would say, though as always she would say it anyway. He always underestimated how she became even cockier when buzzed. “Taiyang came around pretty fast.”

“And how do often you see your dear husband?” Qrow drolled.

“Often enough that our alliance with Vale still holds, that’s all that matters. We both have people to lead. With any luck, once the old Schnee dies, you’ll be in a similar situation.”

“She’s too young.”

“Not that young. They could have sent the four year old, would that have been better?” Qrow didn’t share her amusement. Raven continued anyway. “I was married a year younger than she is now. She’ll figure it out.” 

Raven smirked again. It was a miracle her and Taiyang Xiao-Long somehow actually remained married. The so-called Dragon was one of the softest men Qrow had ever met, off the field at least. Slow tempered and easy going. Qrow met Tai when they were married, and again when Atlas attempted to invade, only now he seemed to get to know the man. The war brought both their people together, though now that it was over, they returned to their respective homes. Raven was still Chief and Taiyang a leader of his people as well, they saw each other enough to keep their union valid, got along well enough, and little more. When Raven’s daughter decided to make an appearance, Tai took her graciously and named her after himself. Raven’s semblance had tied her to Yang whether she likes it or not, but the Chieftain visited her daughter little, and no one spoke much about it.

Raven finished the drink and slammed the glass on the table. Qrow didn’t move when she got up. “But, if you want to argue with Father, he’ll be here until the wedding.”

“I’m sure he’d love to remind me of my place again.”

“He would.” Qrow swatted away his sister’s hand when she ruffled his hair. Raven was the one to suggest the marriage, but Avani would always have the final say until the skies take him. After years of Trials, proving - or at least acting as if he could - control his curse around his father, Qrow chose his battles with him carefully. But this one he did not hesitate to start, and Avani did not hesitate to finish. When Raven was named Chief, Qrow didn’t question it. She was the better leader among the two, more driven and dedicated. Qrow was more of a follower, though he was still free. He was promised to be free to go where he wished, take what he wanted, meet with who he liked, and - if he ever found it in himself - marry who he wanted. Until now, when his duty to his family required that to be changed.

Marriage was not common among them. People switched partners all the time. Children weren’t necessary, but happened anyway, if they did truly love each other. His people didn’t feel the need for a god or anyone else to say that their love was real. Raven only was tied to Tai for their alliance. The next closest thing they had to marriage was being bonded together, and even that was relatively unofficial. A promise made to each other, someone to witness it, but if it was broken, the fault was between them. Qrow had a feeling Winter would not idly accept a few words said beneath a redwood if he was going to break them so easily. And he was sure his father would not stand for it either.

Raven continued. “But he’ll be gone after you two are bonded together. Probably back north. Keep an eye on the Falkes.” He did not miss her eyes darting far away, even for just the split second.

Qrow ran his finger over the rim of his glass. “You should go south to the Isles for a while. You did just end a war, you could relax.”

“Relax.” She snorted, pacing around his large tent. “Please, I want to raid again. Real raids, not collecting tribute. And if I can’t have that, what could be more relaxing than watching you try to navigate your new wife?”

“It won’t be that relaxing once everyone starts trying to murder her.”

“You’re always dramatic.” Raven laughed, stopping to watch his fire, a pit in the far corner of the hut. “But not entirely wrong.”

“You could help me stop that.”

“I have told them she is not to be harmed. You see how well they listen, to me anyway. If she wanted to be alive and safe, then her father would not have tried to make fools of us.” She shrugged.

It would take more than a few words to convince a Branwen not to take a shot at the Schnee. They couldn’t have Jacques himself, his daughter would do just fine as revenge.

“If Schnee is strong enough, she will live. If not, you’re free to chase down your Rose. I’ll blame her death on sickness, or a rogue tribesman, and when Jacques Schnee declares another war, I’ll get to kill him myself. We can take Atlas like we took Anima.”

“And try to keep tribes together from across the sea? As your closest advisor, I will advise you to keep from another war.” Qrow drolled in a posh imitation, sinking lower into his chair. His roll has always been clear to him, his father made sure of that. They grew up knowing Raven would be Chief and he would stand at her side. The strongest of allies, most fervent supporter. A second opinion, a shield in battle, and a friend in safety. Qrow knew his place and he knew Raven would not do anything to him purely out of malice, so he listened when it mattered, and she did the same.

“Protect your wife well enough, and it won’t come to that.”

* * *

Winter had changed into more appropriate clothes for the night, staying in her tent and away from all the noise outside. Nadine kept her fire going, and arranged her things. Winter kept her saber and the other girl close, under her pillow or sometimes in her lap. She made one or two defensive glyphs when she heard tribesmen stalking outside her tent, though no one came closer than that.

Ever since she arrived, they’d been rowdy. Singing, fighting, drinking. If this continued all night, she’d be one tired bride for her wedding tomorrow. She could handle being tired, maybe that would ease her fear.

Surrounded by savages and Faunus, with only a handmaid who was still too frightened to speak to her freely. The party Winter had traveled with would go back to Atlas by the morning, the trade was complete. If she could ask anything of her husband, it would be to send her maid back home, too. Men here would tear a scared girl like Nadine to shreds if she gave them the chance. Winter knew she would have to do more than a few unpleasant things, but she would not be lost to these people.

Winter darted across her bed to Shattered Ice when the entrance to her tent swished open. She kept the blade hidden, but kept her grip on the hilt as Qrow Branwen let himself into her space. He stopped right before the opening, greatsword sitting on his lower back. Winter realized she was wrong before, he wasn’t lanky, but lean. Up closer he was filled out, a strong jaw and soft eyes. A simple ring on one finger and a band around his wrist. He looked back, almost hesitant, before stepping further into the tent.

Winter forgot about her noticings tightened her grip on her weapon. “We’re not married yet.”

Qrow scoffed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Didn’t come here for that.” His reassurance was as surprising as his actual voice. Grough, almost like it belonged to an older man, so different from his sister. Still, Winter held onto Shattered Ice, Qrow looked around her tent. None of her other trunks had been opened, and nothing else in the space had even been touched. Nadine made a small place for herself in the corner, which Qrow frowned at when he saw. “You can’t have slaves here.”

Winter looked to Nadine, then back at him. “She’s not a slave.” Winter sat up in the bed, fixing her posture when Qrow raised an eye in doubt. “She’s a handmaid.”

“Can you do anything yourself?” His tone was lined with condescension.

“Yes.” Winter deadpanned, allowing some of her disgust to show in her tone. She flinched when another shout came from outside her tent, this time much closer than any before.

Qrow scoffed again, this time a little laugh came with it. “You’re welcome to join them, you know. It is our celebration.”

Winter cleared her throat, straightening her back and keeping her sights on the entrance to her hut. “I think not.”

“You know, it might be easier for both of us if you didn’t think so lowly of us.” She snapped her eyes back to Qrow, expecting the same sarcasm as before, but in his eyes she only saw sincerity. Immediately she distrusted the sentiment, but he held her gaze all the same. “I didn’t want this either.”

Winter gritted her teeth, forgetting that this might be the only place she wouldn’t be scolded for it. He had no idea what he was talking about. He wasn’t dragged from his home, his entire family, no matter how cold they might be. Weiss would grow up without her sister, her mother alone with her father - who knows how cruel he’ll be after such a defeat. To be forced into a whole other kingdom, surrounded by those who’d rather murder her, consequences or no.

She’d never find her own path, not as a Schnee and not as herself. Marriage could mean everything in Atlas, who you’re with decides your status, where you’ll go, what you can do, how others see you. Here, it was nothing to them. Qrow Branwen would say a few words under their stupid sky, and forget about her in the morning if he pleased. He didn’t want this? It didn’t matter to him in any way.

Winter clenched her jaw and felt her stomach twist. She knotted her hands in the fur blanket beneath her, forgetting every warning she was given about angering any of these people here. “I don’t care what you want.”

With a frown he parted his lips to say something, but apparently thought better of it. Qrow sighed, nodded once, and backed out of her tent. Winter relaxed in the bed, letting out a breath and closing her eyes. At the very least, if she's unhappy, he would be at well. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not exactly sure how far I'm going to take this. Kind of just had a burst of inspiration and ran with it, but I guess we'll see. Thanks for reading and reviews are always appreciated!


	2. It's Easier, It's Kinder

The redwood’s bark flickered from orange to red to black against the light of the fire, Qrow felt his stomach twist. He had read how people were bonded in Atlas, everything seemed to be designed to make someone like him on edge. An extremely public wedding, inside and with everyone from family to strangers watching. Another stranger would watch them create their bond, and the two say no words to each other the whole time. In some cases their mouths were covered with the rest of them. The groom would had a gown made for the bride, and the bride would bind them together with a silk ribbon. At the end they threw rice at the couple and fought to dance with the woman.

The wedding bond would be the first time the couple would merge auras, and though Qrow would be following that tradition, it still made him on edge. Merging auras was something intimate, moreso than bedding, and certainly something he’d rather not do with a stranger. When done wrong it could be downright violating, sharing your soul completely with the other. Qrow could only hope this particular tradition they could move quickly past.

That, and a few other things he allowed Winter Schnee to do her own way. He had convinced someone to hand over a dress, though he had not bothered to really look at it, and the silk ribbon. It was Atlas tradition that they tied two souls together, and Qrow found letting her tie a silk ribbon around his wrist to be simple enough. Anything else, was the Branwen’s tradition.

He stood before the redwood, budding spring branches spreading out over them, but the moon was visible enough to keep watch. A small clearing held a fire, and a log stump for the elder to sit. There would only be Raven staying in place of his mother, an elder to keep tradition and serve as a witness, and one of Winter’s maids was allowed to watch from the side. He swapped casual, light clothing for traditional hakama and kimono. Qrow had laid Harbinger before the ancient tree, he wondered if she even had a weapon to lay when it came time. Or if she would know to do so.

A grunt from the elder and a nod back towards camp showed Winter nearing the clearing. She kept her head down, white hair tucked perfectly into a bun, what looked like pearls netted over her hair. She carried some kind of flower, as red as his eyes, and a blue ribbon. Her dress was a flowing blue silk, pearls making sweeping curved lines across the bodice. A collar of pearls was across her neck. Qrow made note to reward whoever found the dress, it was good enough for him, and even Schnee colors.

Winter kept her eyes on the ground, until she reached Qrow. She looked him up and down, then to her maid behind him, and the elder on the other side. Qrow hoped it was the fire, and not shame that filled her cheeks with red. He would swear he heard her teeth click shut when she raised her chin.

They stood in silence for a moment as the elder shakily rose to her feet. “If you chose it, then nothing holds you from each other. Under the eye of the skies, two souls shall become one. Lay out your weapons as you shall lay out your life. And be bonded together.” She stomped a foot into the ground, and sat back on her stump.

Qrow stepped towards the redwood tree and grabbed the hilt of Harbinger, setting it down in the grass behind her feet. Winter held out her hand, the maid hurried quickly to hand her a sheathed saber, Qrow raised a brow. Winter dragged her blade out of the simple sheath, a delicate, almost brittle-looking saber emerged. She followed his steps and laid it in the grass, just behind him as a shield.

Winter stood and grabbed Qrow’s wrist, avoiding his eyes as she gracefully wrapped the silk around him. The movements were elegant, practiced. He didn’t notice her hands shaking until their palms lay flat together.

Qrow blinked slowly and swallowed. He glanced at the silk around their wrists as was Atlas tradition, and said the words of his people’s own.

“By the wind that moves the sky, I shall soar with you. Any conflict you have will be my own, and any trial we come by, will be conquered together. We will show the world our strength and share each other’s, until the sky calls us to come home, and we will return to it by ash and dust.”

The lack of her echoing the words with him did not go unnoticed, among any who were present. It was not a vow that should be said alone. Winter remained silent, and again Qrow felt his stomach drop. He made his promise, it wasn’t returned, and he could not take it back. A log in the fire split, one half tumbling out of the pit. It seemed his semblance was still trying to top itself in worst timing. He heard Raven sigh.

Winter ignored it, just as she had everything else, and took his other hand, linking them by hand and wrist, and closed her eyes. With a deep breath in Qrow followed suit, feeling his red aura flash around him, chasing off what little cold he felt, and easing the nausea in his stomach.

Slowly, he felt her aura creeping up his arms. Not the warm, comforting red he’d known. A cool, soothing but noticeable blue, mixing with his own. An unfamiliar presence but not unexpected. He forced himself to let it bleed and mix with own, and pushed a little back on her so Winter felt it as well.

Qrow didn’t want it to feel aggressive, and she did not flinch back from him so he didn’t assume it did. Their auras kept bleeding into each other’s until it seemed to fill them. Qrow felt the cool blue pressing against his back, and felt his red all the way down to her feet, against the earth under her shoes.

With their auras blending came their souls. Feelings, emotions, instincts. Qrow felt her pride first, then restraint, then overwhelming anger with shame. He couldn’t deny she probably felt something similar. Though, through the anger and shame, there was a warmth. Passion, and strength to endure, and caring, but he couldn’t reach what it was for. Qrow felt her heart beating strong as it lined up with his, breath syncing along with it. He felt a force that was not his own, familiar aura running through his veins, surrounding his heart, his bones, and realized he could feel the same in her. 

Qrow opened his eyes, seeing both his colors and her’s dancing over each other, blending as they formed a shield around them. Winter finally looked him in the eye, and he saw sparks of red flashing through blue irises. They stayed still, feeding into and taking from each other’s auras. Qrow realized she was waiting for someone to tell her to stop, when no one would. He lifted his fingers gently from her wrists, feeling the blue slowly fade back into her arms. The soothing cool slowly flowing out of him, and his own red back in its place. 

Winter didn’t hesitate to follow suit, ripping her hands off of him and nearly flinching back, before folding her hands properly in front of her once again. She turned to face back towards the camp, blinking what was left of Qrow’s aura out of her eyes. The red gave way to the blue again.  

The elder again rose from her stump and waved them towards camp. They were one now, whether they liked it or not, and were to return to camp to act like it. Winter stepped forward without him, her maid taking her weapon for her, and taking Winter’s arm to guide her back.

Qrow sighed, Raven nudged Harbinger at his side and he took it without a word. They fell into step together, the quiet of the wood suddenly overwhelming.

As always, Raven sensed his discomfort. “That was the most uncomfortable thing I’ve ever seen.” She whispered, not looking away from Winter’s back.

“I tried to make it easy for her.”

“You failed.” His sister huffed out a laugh. “I don’t think she’s as stupid as she looks.”

”Doesn’t feel like it, either.”

“She knows none of this will be easy.” Raven rested her hand on Magpie’s hilt at her waist, shaking her head at Winter.  “Tying a fancy ribbon around a lamb’s neck before slaughter does not calm it.”

* * *

Winter was familiar with intense need to scream.

Through events, hearings, public addresses, dinners, and parties her father had devised only to have their family look the perfect picture of Atlesian wealth, and elegance, she had always played her part. To be poised, and sophisticated, and say the words everyone wanted to hear, and be boiling inside the entire time.

Now was no different, though the intensity of being infuriated felt stronger than ever before. She sat, posture straight and hands folded perfectly, at the head of the table in the Tribe’s one real building, a great hall, and watched the chaos surrounding her. The people ate like savages, and the plates of meat, breads, stew, simple pastries and desserts, and more alcohol than she’s ever seen reflected that. People shouted over the music, banged fists on the tables, emptied glasses of ale faster than they could be filled. Others danced in the center of the hall, with seemingly no rhyme or reason, no practiced steps, and no planned partners. She watched Raven Branwen switch between girls for partners as the songs went on. She favored a muscular girl with short hair, not shying away from any displays of intimacy. No one seemed surprised, Raven never sparred a glance up at the dais where Winter sat alone with the retired Chief. 

Her new husband had disappeared in search for a new glass, apparently it was tradition to douse a newlywed man with as much ale as possible without allowing him to drink any. No woman wanted a drunk on their wedding night, and apparently that was everyone of these bandit’s business. Almost immediately after they sat down to dinner together, he was being splashed by friends as well as strangers. Some he cursed at, other’s he laughed, Winter couldn’t tell what made the difference.

Raven’s blue-eyed girl with the cropped hair eventually passed him a cup of wine, before knocking it out of his hands and sending it shattering across the ground with a teasing laugh. She felt the crunch of glass under her feet still, and the cold of the wine soaking the bottom of her dress. Another insult to be reminded of, how little effort was put into...seemingly anything here. This dress had belonged to someone else, barely covered her skin. The silk was old, some of the pearls falling from the seams. Not crafted to fit her shape, or her wishes, or to be worthy of its name. Nothing a Schnee should be married in.

Married was a term she must learn to use loosely. A few minutes in the mud under a tree was a poor excuse for a wedding, in her mind. She had mostly kept her eyes on the Faunus behind her husband, the old woman with black beady eyes and goat horns, it was something out of her childhood nightmares.

There would be no proper ceremony, no throwing rice to wish for healthy children, no one to even offer her a dance. Winter had no misconceptions that she would ever really fall in love and have a wedding she dreamed up as a small child, but some semblance of respect would have been nice.

Qrow heaped down into the chair next to her, stench filling her nose and making her head swim. “Sorry,” he muttered, barely audible over the noise of the hall. He had changed his soaked kimono top into a simple tunic, though as soon as he sat he was fighting off another attempt to douse him again. Some wine splashed over the cup and onto Winter’s shoulders, the red striking against her pale skin.

Yes, a scream would be cathartic, if nothing else.

Nadine finally budged from her corner to hand her a cloth, wiping the wine from her skin. She offered her more water, as her glass was empty, but Winter declined. She had picked at the meat on her plate - she assumed it was some kind of beef - but dared to eat. If tonight was half as sickening as this dinner, she should have nothing in her stomach to possibly come back up.

Avani sent a curious look to the maid, sending her scurrying back to the corner. Winter had heard him speak barely more than a few sentences the whole night, but started to see why all these brutes chose to follow him. An older man, gray streaks in long black hair tied from his face, sharp red eyes like his daughter, and shoulders as wide as an ox. When he did speak, it was calm, deliberate, but strong. He listened contently to anyone who spoke to him, and did not bother listening to more than he wanted to hear. When he smiled, a seemingly rare sight, in was genuine. Almost the opposite of her own father, constantly boasting, demanding approval for everything he had accomplished, and reassurance that his risky decisions were right.

The touch at her shoulder finally had Winter breaking her straight gaze across the hall. Qrow nodded his head to the back of the hall. Finally, an excuse to leave, and she took it, rising from her chair to follow him off the dais. Someone whistled behind them, she only hurried down the steps and out the rear of the hall.

The chill of the air prickled at her exposed skin, but didn’t shock her. Even night here was much warmer than anytime in Atlas. She wondered if she would ever get to see snow again. A soft blanket suddenly appearing after a long night, or ice crystals shining off twisted branches. For now, a bright moon and relative quiet outside the hall was enough to settle at least some of her nerves.

“That could go on all night, and your maid girl looked like she would rather be swallowed whole.” Qrow stepped forward to walk next to her, Winter only nodded. He waited to see if she would respond any further, and had the decency to stay quiet after it was clear she would not. Out of all of them, he seemed to be the only one who could tell she was miserable - or at least bothered to act like it - and if it meant him stepping around her, she’d take it.

Qrow turned in the direction away from her tent, and to the back of the camp, towards his own. So he would bed her in his own space, it seems. Then it would be impossible to take any of this back. Stay the rest of her life at his side. Winter didn’t react other than following his lead. There was no real hope it would go any other way. She prepared for this, she could handle worse than this. She might have to.

Lanterns were already lit in the hut, more furniture than her own. A bed and a small, hanging sack hammock, a few chests, a rack for his weapon, scattered bottles, and a firepit. Two tables, covered in maps, one with figures. More empty bottles to the side. 

Qrow looked back and her and blinked, clearing his throat. “Raven and I would plan...things in here. Spend nights.” Attacks on Atlesian bases, Winter corrected in her mind. Atlas’s army would barely be able to hold anywhere for more than a month or two before it would fall. She didn’t take him for a strategist. Qrow cleared his throat and continued, tossing a feather pillow on the hammock. “Temporary, though. We’ll be moving soon, I know that. For now, you can stay in your own tent, if you want. No one will bother you.”

Winter blinked, turning to look away from the table and back at him. “What?”

Her voice seemed to surprised him. “Your tent, I figured you’d be more comfortable.” When she stared blankly at him again, Qrow rolled his eyes. “I didn’t expect you to suddenly jump into my arms. I don’t know what the hell you people do in Atlas, but I’ve done what I have to.” He held up his hands.

Winter paused, frowning. “I just didn’t...expect-”

“I know what you expected.” He scoffed, for the first time looking genuinely angered. “Gods, you look like you’ve been waiting for it since you got here. Don’t. It’s different here. It’s rougher, and dirtier, and a lot people are not gonna like you, but I made a damn vow. To my people, to end this war, and keep them from another one. And that matters to me, even if you think it barbaric. You will not be harmed, not by me. And not like that.”

Winter stayed firmly planted in her spot. She expected some sort of laughter, like his grand statement was some kind of joke, and they’d move on with the night, or more bandits would pop out and push her into bed. Make a game of it. But nothing came. Qrow kept his eyes on her, anger slowly draining out of his posture. She had felt the deep, raw shame when they fused their auras, something old and instilled in him, she could tell by the feeling. The anger behind it. The look in his eyes sent the feeling shooting through her again.

She swallowed thickly, and folded her hands. Her words were calm, even, as sophisticated as a Schnee’s should be. “Do not expect me to be grateful for any of this.”

Winter saw his jaw clench, she gathered her dress and turned before he could say anything, pushing out of the tent. For the first time in - she couldn’t even tell in how long, she was alone. She wandered through the camp, various sizes of tents and litter on the ground from all the parties that were supposedly in her honor. The one she was now tied to was the only person to allow her to even walk by herself, even if was through a dirty camp she barely knew. Her tent was near the end, she could remember that, but for now she seemed to just walk without anywhere in mind.

Winter found the exit before her own bed, but didn’t go near it. It wasn’t like she could possibly escape. Four guards walked the walls, and if she somehow managed to slip past, how could she possibly find her way through a forest without Shattered Ice st her side? Grimm would be served the easiest dinner they’ve had in years.

She circled the camp again, staying far from the great hall, or anyone else wandering around. Thunder cracked in the distance, but a storm seemed far off from the clear sky above them. Winter entered a tent that resembled her own well enough, lighting a few candles inside before shaking out her hair. The net of pearls was thrown to the ground, and she practically ripped her dress trying to get it off. She found herself under the covers of fur before she realized she was moving, burying her head among the pillows. Everything still smelled like the pines that surrounded the camp, with the dirt and mud and stench of everyone else here, and for once she did not notice it.

Winter found herself laughing, she supposed that was better than the phenomenal anger or the shame that boiled in her stomach as well. What an excellent joke. In a way, it was honorable. He may not have a single care for her, the same as all of them, but he’ll keep her alive if it meant keeping his people from another war. One, stupid Atlesian girl the key to the entire Branwen Tribe. An heir to the Schnee fortune, married to a savage bandit who wanted nothing to do with her. Heaving, belly laughter ripped through her.

What an excellent joke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun merging/researching/making up wedding traditions and ceremony stuff. Both Winter and Qrow are absolutely disgusted with the other's expectations of them, and are gonna have to learn how to find a good middle ground for the both of them.  
> Thanks for reading! Comments are always adored!


	3. Tell Me Not of Heartbreak

When Qrow looked back once again, watching Winter ride a fair distance behind him in the caravan, she couldn’t stand it anymore. Constantly checking back on her, as if she would run? There wasn’t anywhere to go, she didn’t know the land, and there was seemingly only one path, that the Tribe traveled on now. Maybe it was to make sure she kept up with them. Winter had no idea, she knew how to ride a horse.

They had barely seen each other since their wedding night a week ago. She mostly kept to herself, only exploring out of her hut once his father and most of his men had gone back to the northern camps. Winter took a majority of her meals in her tent, whenever it was possible for Nadine to go out and get it for her. Once or twice she ventured to the great hall, taking her breakfast at the table. Most ignored her, eating quickly and going on with their day. Qrow sat with her once.

“Has anyone bothered you?” Winter could remember his voice clearly than she would have liked. Quiet, almost hesistant.

”No one has.” She had answered stiffly, stabbing the slab of sausage on her plate, no attempt to take a bite.

Qrow had nodded, lingered for a moment more, and left her alone with Nadine again. Not since then had they even seen each other. Before she knew it they were suddenly packing up camp. A few men took her trunks, others the furs from her bed. Winter could hope they were packed somewhere, but it was possible she’d never see them again.

Luckily she had strapped Shattered Ice to her hip before anyone could lay a hand on it. Not that it mattered, it seemed out of place not to have a weapon on you in the Tribe. She grabbed a few other important things, and a horse no one seemed to bother with, and followed the tribesman and her husband without a word. Winter wondered if this was all they would do, stay in one place for a few days before moving on to another, no warning and no apparent reason. She hoped her confusion back at camp once her tent was being torn down didn’t show too much.

Now, Winter had a new look in her eyes, determined and confident, she kicked her horse to trot up next to her husband’s. He seemed to barely have to control the animal, despite leading them. A few sacks hung from it’s saddle, his greatsword hanging low on his back.

Qrow raised a brow expectantly, Winter cleared her throat. “I want to know where we’re going. No one has told me.”

“You haven’t exactly asked until now.” Qrow couldn’t keep the small laugh to himself. He always seemed to be laughing at something, though this was the first time she was on the receiving end. At least he answered her. Qrow nodded up the path. “South, to Argos along the inner coast. Few stops to take tribute and remind a few tribes the order of things.”

Winter watched him for a moment, carefully choosing her words. “Which is?”

He shrugged, relaxing back on his horse. “The war’s over, we’re all spread out again. Raven’s going to west coast, East is Lake Matsu and Mistral’s territory, we’re going south. The Longclaws will probably continue their feud with the Truweks, I will remind them to keep villages loyal to us out of it. Then we’ll make sure the Kiilos aren’t dealing in slaves, it pisses off Menagerie. Then visit one or two others, make sure villagers aren’t getting any grand ideas, and stay in Argos for a while.”

She must remember to find out what exactly is their relationship with an island filled with Faunus. And how to avoid exactly what tribute these villages are offering for being spared in return. For now, their destination was more important. “What’s in Argos?”

“Coastal city. Better food, warmer climate, dopey people. Used to be part of Mistral, before we came in, and convinced the lead family to see our way. They still put on plays, and hosts dinners, thought it more suited to you.” Qrow cleared his throat, looking away when he realized Winter was staring at him. “For a little while.”

Winter felt the pit in her stomach that formed as soon as she was shipped off here lighten, if just a little bit. It could’ve been coincidental, that they were going to a city he thought she might actually want to be in. “You can just go wherever you want? With half your people to just follow you?”

“Half?” Qrow looked back at the caravan that followed, a small smirk across his lips. “This isn’t even a fifth, but I’m flattered.” He scoffed, but softened when he saw she was still waiting for an answer. At least she was speaking to him at all. “Yeah, mostly. Most of the time I go on my own, but it's better to have more than just one of us be seen travelling again, now that the war's over. Raven’ll eventually figure out what she wants to do, and we’ll meet again somewhere.”

Winter nodded evenly, looking back to the path in front of them. Large oak trees bordered the dirt road, bright green leaves swaying in a gentle breeze. One thing she had come to admire was all the green. There were always evergreens in Atlas, but these trees were different. Fluffier, came to mind, not to mention there were plants growing naturally and animals just randomly crossing their path. It was like something out of a book, though her husband always had an amused look on his face when she would stare a deer too long.

She heard Qrow hum beside her and looked back. He was watching her again, not the same checking in, but intently. “What is it?”

“I think that was the longest conversation we’ve had.”

“I haven’t had much to say before now.”

“Oh,” Qrow leaned back, smirk clear across his lips. “Well please, I’m always listening.”

Winter didn’t take offense to his tone. She had a feeling he was like this with everyone, now that she had time to observe. As soon as they were out on the their own, neither his sister nor his father around, he seemed to relax. He joked with his people, spoke a little softer, but a lot more often, even with Winter herself. She merely straightened her back, adjusting the reins in her hand as she took his mood as an opportunity. “Several of my things were taken when we left the base.”

“That was Forinth.” He corrected, Winter nodded in affirmation. She supposed she would need to know these names. “It was probably thrown onto a cart near the center. Usually we just take anything that can fit so whoever comes to Forinth after us can’t say it’s theirs. Or sell it.” Qrow shrugged, and flicked a hand at the greatsword at his back. “But if you want something that badly, don’t leave it anywhere, or it’s not yours anymore.”

Winter hummed. A sharp, high whistling started behind them, both looked back to see a tall, skinny man on his horse, smug look on his face as he started a tune. He was slightly older, already had gray ends in his hair, and long scars across the side of his neck. Winter couldn’t recognize the song herself, though others followed. Look back in the caravan, Winter was more surprised to see Nadine, a few rows back, actually talking with someone beside her. Qrow practically bristled beside her.

“No,” he boomed out, taking a commanding tone for the first time since Winter’s been around him. “Anything but that one.” Someone booed him, but the whistling stopped. Qrow glanced back to Winter, shaking his head. “Trust me, you wouldn’t like it.” It wasn’t more than a minute before singing started again.

“ _I know of a child, born into strength. Who had greatness in his grasp.”_

Winter was very close to being amused at fast Qrow slumped on his horse in defeat after hearing the words, a long sigh escaping him. She wasn’t familiar with this song either, though instantly others followed his lead. A soft melody, like someone you sing to a child. She couldn’t see how this could draw such a reaction out of him.

“ _I know of a child, with blood in his eyes. And Death would follow his path._

_“The blood of his kin, the blood of his foes, a reaper through and through,_

_“A child who shot the Falcon down! And didn’t even want to.”_

“ _Still there is pride, and there is strength, despite the child’s curse,_

_“Regret the day he came to call, but know the sister is much worse!”_

Winter couldn’t hide her shock at the song as it went on, growing faster near the end. It wasn’t difficult to figure out, though some of the details were lost on her. Such a blatant mockery of their leader wouldn't stand for a second at home. People even started laughing as it ended. Some tried to get it going again, but died out quickly. Her eyes darted to Qrow as he clapped slowly, turning fully around on his horse. “A wonderful rendition.” He said sardonically.

The one started singing held up a canteen, a silent toast. Winter watched Qrow shake his head, sling his legs back around to face forward again. “What was that?” She asked quietly.

Qrow shrugged, some of the others moving on to another song, most turning back to their conversations. At first she thought he might just ignore her, but he shrugged again, slightly stiff.  

“An old joke.”

* * *

The horse snorting startled Qrow awake. “It’s alright.” He patted her neck instinctively, shaking his head and thus the sleep away. The last he remembered, the sky was still bright with orange as the sun set beside them, but now it was dark. Stars lit their path, but he wasn’t worried. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s fallen asleep while riding.

Qrow checked behind him, seeing the rest of Tribe still following behind him. Wyn gave him a look, asking if he was alright. Wyn was trusted, close enough that Qrow would call him a friend, and kept him around while traveling. He was more loyal to his father than Qrow himself, though that wasn’t uncommon with anyone older than him or Raven. Still, one of few people he’s known throughout his whole life, and it was enough. Qrow stuck up his thumb, looking past him to Winter. At some point she fell back into the crowd, now she stayed by the side of her maid. Obviously not asleep, back still straight as ever, and staring ahead.

Wyn kicked his horse to step just close enough for Qrow to hear him with ease. “She’s a riot.”

He raised a brow. “You talked to her?”

“No.” Wyn huffed, shaking his head. “Gods, girl won’t talk to anyone. But she’s funny.”

”Think so?”

”She certainly looks the type to have some wits. Once you get past all her Atlas Uppity Pride and poke at her little soft skin a bit.” 

Qrow sighed, only able to imagine how he came to that conclusion while Qrow wasn’t looking. “Any trouble?” 

“Not that I can tell.” Wyn sighed, looking back at the rest of their people. “No one’s stirred anything up as of yet.” 

“You’re little song didn’t help.”

“She’s gonna hear it eventually.” He smirked. “Who doesn’t like a good song? You stopped me from doing Atlesian Wife.”

“That would’ve been worse.” Qrow half laughed. “I’m trying to get her to not hate me.”

“You got to love her, then she'll see.”

“Yeah, I’ll let you know when she lets me get within five feet of her.”

“Then, what would be better than a song?”

“Anything else.” He shook his head, turning back to the dirt road. The silence was appreciated, for the short while until he saw lights of the village shining over the next ridge. Wyn gave a whistle behind him, Qrow nodded to the scout that raced ahead.

A warning to whoever led the village, though more of a threat. Their band would stay for a day or two, expect food and take up space in their inns, and then be on their way. Qrow more often than not would slip enough Lien to their leader to keep them from getting too resentful. Keep the more aggressive tribesmen he had away from the girls, no true harm done. He couldn’t say whether anyone else had the same idea. In turn they don’t kill anyone without cause, and leave the village in one piece.

This village was little more than a half square mile, a simple cobblestone wall surrounding it. A sign that read Greyyenhall swung from it’s gate. Most of his people had no trouble making themselves at home at the inns, though some headed to taverns. Qrow watched as lights disappear from the windows of house after house, the stone streets were deserted. Most houses were simple wooden structures, two floors at the most. A larger building was near the other end of the village, a small courtyard that seemed to be a marketplace in the center. Lots of planters, hanging baskets of flowers on porches. He noticed Winter out of the corner of his eye as he tethered his horse.

“You can take a room in the inn, I’ll make sure you get one. There’s probably a bath, I’ll try to find your other things.”

He watched her from the side, looking like she was struggling to not say thank you. Qrow let her decide what she wanted to say, if anything. Maybe to make sure she had everything she needed, or reprimanding the idea of taking so much from these people, but maybe that was just his own opinion. Another beat passed before she finally bit something out. “How long are we staying?”

Qrow hid his smirk from her. “At least until morning.”

“And after?”

“Back on the road.” He answered, then paused. “Do you know how to sleep sitting up?”

“I have never tried.”

“You’ll learn, most of the time we just keep going through the night. It’s lucky we stopped so early.”

“I will have to remember to appreciate it.” She told him curtly and turned around towards the inn without another word to him.

Qrow wondered if it would always be this way. Short, informal back and forths before she gets tired of it and makes her exit. Better than communicating strictly through that scared maid of her’s, at the least. She definitely had wit to her, Qrow was curious to see how far he could push that when they were ready for it.

His feet took him towards the pub without realizing, his old habits seemingly did not die just because he was married. He should be further planning their route, or making sure his people were actually settled, or meeting with Greyyehall’s mayor, or elder, or whatever they did in this region, sometimes he didn’t care to remember. No, up north they had elders, farther south they had councils, somewhere in between they had mayors. Qrow shook his head, focusing on ordering to the nervous looking boy in front of him. 

The tavern was like any of the other thousands he's seen. Low lighting, a large space to hopefully avoid any fights, but with his crowd Qrow could count the seconds until one broke out. At least the drink he ordered was strong. Anima was praised for their distilleries, the vineyards in the south, the strong ale from the north. A good blend was right in the middle, though he swore a tiny little pub he came across on the southern coast of Lake Matsu was the best he's ever had. Either way, a drink was a drink, and he did not judge the one he had now.

After that, it always seemed easier to do anything, especially not think about what was required of him. Little facts and things he should be keeping in mind slipped away, and he found that easy state, finally able to block out the unwanted noise in his own head. A little relaxant never hurt at the start of a journey. At one point he had moved from one end of the bar to the other without realizing. He stayed at the bar for longer than he should’ve, listening to his people enjoy themselves behind him.

There was more than five arm wrestling matches, some must have been dancing, people started losing at darts, a chair broke out from under someone, Qrow left before they could catch on. The little spark that ran up his spine everytime his semblance spiked was never dulled, no matter how hard he tried. Only when his aura broke was it completely gone, though Raven had stopped him doing that when they were still children. Now, it was always easiest to talk his way out of a situation when everyone else was as drunk as he was, though with as tired as he was now, Qrow decided it was better to avoid accusation altogether.

It had always sounded much better in the song.

* * *

Winter’s hair seemed to sing as she brushed it out. Still wet from the bath, and clean, it was the simplest thing she's had to do in days. And welcome, it wasn't like anything else was going her way.

The hot tub was nice as well, a real chance to scrub the dirt from her skin. Not like in the Branwen camp’s spring, that was seemingly always occupied beside the dead of night, and even then only the trees were in place for privacy. Cold water never bothered her before, but it was nice to soak, not worry about anyone scolding her for pruny skin. The inn even had a carpeted floor, soft against her bare feet.

She had thought about sneaking off somewhere to practice with Shattered Ice, but in a strange place it would be too risky. And it was little use without a real partner. Winter had written a few letters to her home, mostly to mother, or for her to read to Weiss. This town might have some kind of post system, but she didn’t want to give anyone in the Tribe reason to suspect she’s doing something wrong. The terms for communication with her family were never brought up, and she did not want to bring up the subject if it would possibly get shut down. She kept her letters - rereading, rewriting. Maybe when she has an actual chance to send them they’ll be worthy of the term flawless. 

Winter settled on fighting with her hair, harmless distraction as a knot had formed. She ripped part of her hair, cursed, and slammed the brush down. Nadine stirred from the adjoining room to stand in the doorway. “Would you like help?”

“No.” Winter answered immediately, feeling a twinge of guilt when the girl looked to her feet. “It’s fine. Thank you.”

“Apologies, Miss Schnee.” Still, Nadine was courteous, it seemed these people had not rubbed off on her as much as Winter expected. She turned back to the other room. “I’ll be better next time.”

“Stop.” The words came out of her mouth before Winter could help herself, Nadine froze in her place. Winter sighed, facing her. She supposed now was as good a time as any. They were alone, no one to object or scold. If she were going to survive here, it was time for a little change. The Branwens had no servants, no slaves either. Everything they wanted, they did it themselves. If one needed another’s help was condemned enough, let alone paying someone to help. “We’re not in Atlas anymore. You can stop addressing me in that way. People here...look down on it. I’m hoping to send you back home, when I get the opportunity.”

The smaller girl nodded, but hesitated to dismiss herself. She had to know as well as Winter did that submission wasn’t the norm here, but still she had done it anyway. In Atlas, nothing else was expected of a servant. Winter used to talk to any of them she could, though next to none were open enough to actually talk back, even to carry a conversation. Short, simple, and agreeable responses were all she had gotten for her entire life. A small defiance of even not leaving when expected to would be a shock back home, it was clear Nadine was surprised at even herself. She stepped back, eyes back on the floor.

“What?” Winter held up a hand, stopping her. “You don’t say what you want, people here don’t think you’re polite; they think you’re scared. What is it you want to say?”

Nadine swallowed, digging her heel into the floor of their room. Winter gave her time, there was no one else here to possibly reprimand her. “I have talked to some of them. Not all cruel, so far. Mostly curious why I serve you. They think it odd, sometimes they laugh.”

“They laugh at everything here.” Winter scoffed, but stopped to listen again.

“Sometimes it’s frightening, a lot is different. Not to discredit any of your troubles, Miss. But none have tried to hurt me. Still, if I could say, I don’t think you should be alone here.”

For as completely serious as Nadine was, Winter almost thought she was joking. There couldn’t possibly be any protection in mind in her reasoning. This girl was barely five feet tall, perfect for serving and stepping quietly, but Winter would be surprised if she could lift half her own weight. Still, the girl stayed silent. Winter shook her head, she had to ask, no matter how disrespectful it might sound. “Having you around only puts you in danger. Why would you even think about staying? What do you think you could do for me?”

She took a deep breath. “Familiarity?”

Winter scoffed, shaking her head. The girl was trying, if nothing else. Winter glanced back at her, and she looked away quickly. There was something else, possibly, but she wouldn’t push the subject. “I think the chance for that is gone entirely. I’m- I’ll have to get used to things here now. No matter how...difficult. Or unpleasant.”

“And your husband?”

“Unavoidable.” She almost laughed.

“I do not think it’s the worst match, if you pardon me saying. He seems admirable. Smart. Not unattractive.” Winter did let out a chuckle at her sudden blush. “Please forgive me.”

“It’s alright.” She assured, leaning against the wall.

She stayed quiet for a moment, Nadine waited to see if there was anything else to say, or do. Winter stared at her feet, and let the other girl go. Winter wandered over to Shattered Ice, leaning near the head of her bed in case it was needed. What she really needed was to practice, and Winter had a feeling there weren’t a lot of willing partners. And she didn’t want to give up too much right away. Better to have them keep thinking her absolutely helpless. Nadine was already in her bed across the room, Winter followed her lead. The girl probably needed more rest, anyway, she apparently noticed a lot more than Winter gave her credit for. Not that she was entirely wrong.

Her husband seemed quicker than she previously thought. Well traveled, and well aware of how to handle his people. Willing to give up some of his pride, but still admirable. Was able to take a village without speaking to a single person living in it, though that might just be the power of his name. How Qrow lives up to the name has yet to be seen, but Winter had little doubt he wouldn’t.

Though, seeing him flinch when he stepped into the sun the next morning just sparsely increased her doubts.

Winter was an early riser, and she intended on getting breakfast before they were all swept up and on their way again. The baker gave her slices of bread and toast without charge - she had a feeling being seen with the Tribe was the reason - another seller practically shoved fruit into her arms. She was feeding one of the gifted apples to her horse when her husband emerged from one of the inns, matted hair, filthy clothes, sunken eyes and looking close to throwing up at the slightest amount of light.

She looked to Nadine, ever beside her. “What were you saying last night?”

The maid blushed, and looked back to her horse. Before long they were all on the move again, her husband letting some other man - the singer - take the lead as he downed around five skins of water within an hour of riding. Qrow slowed to ride next to her, capped the canteen, and turned to face Winter fully. “And how was your night?”

She would’ve laughed, if she thought he wouldn’t be smug about it. “Uneventful.”

“Good.” He hummed, pleased with himself despite her efforts. He watched her for a moment longer, Winter held back the urge to roll her eyes. Always watching, expecting something. He seemed to pick up on her annoyance anyway. “I see, we only speak when you initiate. And only a few words at a time.”

“You seem to do most of the talking yourself, anyway.”

“Excuse me for giving you complete answers.” He laughed. “I have been told I put a lot of charm into my words.”

“Is that what they call it?” Winter did allow herself a small smirk, but continued before he could take advantage of it. “I should know these things now, I do not intend to be left in the dark all the time.”

Qrow swallowed whatever he was going to say about her snark. “Agreed. Though it’s a lot more complicated that curtsying and prancing around you do in Atlas. It’ll take a while.”

Winter scoffed, but let the slight slide right off of her. There were some things neither of them would understand about the other, but at least she would try. If she was going to stay, possibly alone, she needed to try. Time for change, and all that.

She couldn’t imagine anyone in her family doing the same. Her mother was gentle, but still set in her ways, more often avoiding any conflict altogether than finding a way to resolve it. Her father’s solution would be  simple, force others to realize her way, and refuse anything but the best, but that would fail disastrously.

Weiss was still only a child, but Winter could guess that’d she’d at least listen. Her heart ached for her sister, what little time they had together to become close before all this. The girl was funny, bright for her young age, sure to be something special when she’s older. Hopefully she’d remember her, if Winter ever gets a chance to see her again.

A shot rang out from behind her, waking Winter from her musings. Qrow perked up as well, more shouting and shots firing from further back in the line. He looked to the man he’d been speaking to before, before turning his horse around. “Stay here.” She was the only one he bothered to tell, everyone else let him go.

It wasn’t another thirty seconds before a screech came out from the sky, and echoed all around them. Winter had one hand wrapped around Shattered Ice’s hilt and the other to cover an ear. She heard someone shout “Move!” and slap the rear of her horse. Winter scrambled for the reigns as her horse shot forwards, the Griffin just barely missing her as it dove into the line.

She yanked the horse back just as it darted blindly into the woods, shouts spread behind her throughout the line. She heard weapons being drawn, others firing off, others just running forward on the path away from the erupting chaos. Winter drew her saber, counting four- five Griffins circling them, more spring from the woods. She heard growls of other monsters, though didn’t see any charge beside the one already in the crowd.

It took seconds for the whole line to be smothered in smoke, Grimm dissolving as quickly as they were attacking. A glyph formed behind her back, forming a shield just in time for a Beowolf to smash into it. It clawed over the edge of the circular shield, Winter thrust her saber clear through its jaw and out the top of it’s head. Another pounced, her horse spooked and ran back to the woods. Winter scrambled to steady him before she got too far from the caravan, getting knocked to the ground as soon as she backed up by another Wolf charging into her horse. The poor thing whined as it fell, Winter rolled away from it, stabbing the monster before it recovered.

She dodged just in time as another wolf sprinted towards the line, or maybe away from it. The thick woods had her turned around, Grimm’s screeches seem to echo around her. Winter forced herself to blow out an even breath, and kept her glyph at her back. The fair snowflake probably would not incite any love within any tribesman who could possibly find her out here, but she still needed a shield until it was clear. If she had an ounce of rare black dust, she could keep anything away through a gravity field, but she hadn’t seen a speck since she left home. Now she just had to trust her semblance would hold.

The screeching slowed as she fended off more Grimm. What seemed like an entire day of using everything she’s ever learned couldn’t have more than an hour. Every time she thought the hoard was thinning, another wolf or Griffin would swoop in. Her aura flickered, she barely felt the Beowolf’s swipe the ripped her dress nearly in half.

Another Griffin dove down at her. The thing reared on it’s back legs, Winter tossed a glyph under its front claws to hold him up, darting under it to stab right in its belly. Grimm pounced, knocking her off her feet and she could barely hold it beak back from ripping into her. Winter wriggled her arm free from its claws and swiped Shattered Ice at its eyes, letting it fling back with a roar before stabbing his throat. She saw a Beowolf charging from the corner of her eye, turning just in time to see a flash and its head drop to the dirt.

Qrow flicked his sword, some of the beast’s blood flinging off as it started to dissipate. He had more of the black blood covering his arm and across his back, smoking off him as if he were on fire. “You can fight.”

It wasn’t really a question as more of an annoyed realization. Winter glanced back to the woods, catching her breath. The last few remaining Grimm being quickly taken down by another who followed Qrow here. She brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, arms quickly feeling like lead. “I can speak to you about this later.”

Now she wanted to sit and only stand after a few years rest. She had trained to fight against Grimm, though never in practice had it felt as exhausting. Actively using her semblance with fighting was a lot different than running through maneuvers in a locked room.

Qrow glanced to his man, who held up his hands and turned back around seemingly towards the caravan. “I think we have a minute.”

Winter sighed, resisting the urge to slouch against the tree next to her, and swallowed thickly. “I am able to defend myself well enough.”

“You let yourself get swarmed.”

“I said well enough.” She sighed, wiping sweat from her forehead and noticing the another rip in her sleeve. Her aura had protected her from any claw drawing blood, but with her exhaustion she might very well be running on empty.

Qrow seemed winded as well, though not on the same level. He paced the length of the small clearing, shaking his head. He turned quickly and started back towards the line through the woods. Winter followed, supposing that would be the end of that. If she was lucky he would keep this between them, let the others keep underestimating her until the time was right. The rest of the Tribe could heard ahead, the trees starting to thin and show the path again.

She frowned at the smile on his face, like it was all a joke. Somehow she must have tricked him, it was a stroke of luck she could survive a hoard of Grimm for as long as she did. He stopped - Winter nearly ran into his back - and turned his head to face her. “You could be better.”

“Excuse me?”

“I can help you. Better than some fancy dancing teacher you apparently had.”

Winter rolled her eyes. “Your modesty becomes you.”

“I’m serious.” He smiled, but it wasn’t the same teasing, smug grin she had seen a thousand times now. “You want to respected here. Or, not seen as helpless. This is a good start, but you need to be better.”

Winter looked back towards the line, no doubt still recovering from the attack. No one seemed to be too surprised, this could be common occurrence. And being barely able to fend off monsters until her own husband could come and help her wasn’t an appealing thought, and wouldn’t be praised among these people either. She had thought keeping what abilities she had a secret may backfire, though it might be too late to stick to that plan at all. She needed to try, to live with these people. Certainly her father would sooner disown her completely than let her fight like any brute out here, but Winter sighed and faced him anyway. It was time to change. “And you’ll be teaching me?”

Qrow blew out a breath. “I am your husband.” He looked back towards his people, to the sky, and back to her. “And I don’t have any other ideas.”

“Any other good ideas.” Winter corrected, or maybe she should have chosen moral. Qrow huffed what could have been a laugh. “I suppose we don’t have any other choice.”

Now he laughed. “It’s been like that since the start.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the pair is on speaking terms...and have and excuse to spend time alone with each other ;)  
> As a note for traveling, My interpretation of Anima is trying to make sense how Qrow/Raven, Pyrrha, and Ren all come from the same place. The north is the more Scandinavian/Norse region, where in the show you'd get the Branwens and the Nuckelavee, both based on Norse mythology. The middle strip around Lake Matsu & Mistral is the more Asian-coded region, like what most of what we see in Vol 4 & 5, where Ren would come from. And the Southern side and little Isles is Greek/Roman region, where Pyrrha would have come from, based on her look and that her allusion is Achilles, and land features similar to actual Greece and Rome  
> Sorry for having absolutely no pattern when it comes to POVs, whatever feels better at the time is just what I go with. Hope it doesn't seem like I'm avoiding Qrow, I'm still trying to find an even tone with him (Canon flips between so lighthearted and absolutely depressing, so who knows if there even is one). Also super sorry to anyone who actually likes poetry and now has had to see my attempt at it omg  
> Thanks for reading and I love comments!


	4. It Plagues My Soul, That I Came and I was Nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a longer break than I wanted, but shorter than I expected. Hopefully there are still some people still interested ha. Thanks for sticking around, this one's a longer one, so I hope the wait was worth it! Thanks for reading!

Qrow rolled his shoulders when he stood, the hard landing in the dirt awakening aches he hadn’t felt in a while. At the very least, Winter Schnee was a fast learner.

Stubborn, hot tempered, unlikely to admit fault, and still little too proper for Qrow’s liking, but fast. Their first training lessons were mostly him just chasing her, she at least knew how to dodge better than anyone. It took over two weeks to convince her to drop the long sleeves and the long dresses, and even then she put up a fight for them. While they were on the move she still wore her shawls, kept her modesty, though switched heavy fur to light linens. It took even longer for him to get her to ignore proper form - he had no idea who the hell taught her that in the first place - though some things she wouldn’t give up, claiming that there was no point in calling yourself a skilled warrior if there was no purpose to your movements. She didn’t want to just dart around like a fool.

Qrow disagreed, but a few sparring matches that nearly ended with her saber through his stomach had him dropping the issue. She had a temper, Qrow enjoyed bringing out her snarky side. A woman with Winter’s pride would not let slights go so easily, especially now that they were used to being alone, and she knew she could talk back to him all she wanted.

It wasn’t too hard to find the time to train with her. Their caravan stopped often enough for little sessions, mostly pointers before they actually fought together. They both agreed it might be better if most stayed ignorant of her skills. Staying in villages a few days at a time was when they were really able to go at it.

By the fourth week of travelling she had started experimenting with her semblance. Not just simple shields or platforms. They were becoming real, moving parts to fight with and change the environment to her favor. Using them to gain higher ground, or trap her opponent, or just get them off their feet. Sending them flying like bladed discs, the ones infused with dust even more deadly.

Qrow couldn’t help but think of when him and Raven were younger, learning her portals limits, how to use them in combat together and against each other. There were more than a few times Qrow nearly lost a limb for not ripping his arms out before a portal closed on them. They both still had scars at his sister's dust experiments. 

Winter was eager too, gaining more confidence. After a few times Qrow felt she was besting him in one or two moves too many, he started pitting Wyn against her. He was slower, but brutal, smashing apart glyphs with a swing of his axe, more of the style that Winter would be fighting if she ever needed to. Those travelling with them seemed disinterested enough in Winter, Qrow decreased how often he instinctively checked in on her. He had already dealt with the Longclaws on his own, the Tribe had other things to worry about than Qrow’s small band. They barely stayed a few hours at the camp before moving out again, Qrow didn’t want to risk anything. The other Tribes they were about to encounter may not be so willing to let a Schnee just walk among them. Atlas was defeated, but they suffered losses on both sides. Not everyone would be so willing to forget that.

He wanted her to be ready. Every now and then he’d push his semblance just the slightest amount, hoping to make her more aware of everything around her that could go wrong. A gust of wind to throw hair in her face, a little more sweat in her palm to loosen her grip, the heel of her boots sinking into the mud, just little things. He didn’t want anything to go too far, or for her to catch on.

So far she hasn’t, too busy being proud of herself for knocking him down. A solid glyph that she shot up into the air before dissolving it beneath his feet had Qrow barely landing without shattering his legs. He sent a few clean shots her way as he fell, one shattered a glyph and the others she simply dodged.

“Well?” Winter drew back his attention, one hand on her hip and a small smirk.

Qrow sighed, resting Harbinger on his back. “That wasn’t bad.” Winter waited a beat, most likely for him to rephrase. Give her a higher praise, or dismiss her entirely. “That was...good. Could’ve launghed me higher though.”

“And give you more time to aim on your way down?”

“And break my aura when I hit.”

Winter frowed. “Excuse me for acting a little sparingly. You’ve never broken mine.”

“That’s not-” Qrow shook his head. A lesson he had to learn numerous times over, there is no such thing a practice fight. Raven would really have his hide if she found out how easy he was taking this. “Doesn’t matter. If it’s real, you should throw it higher.”

Winter paused, most likely to consider if she would take the criticism or not. She paused for a moment longer than usual, Qrow was close to just letting the issue go, before she finally chose her words. “Acceptable.” She sheathed her saber and strapped it to her side, not wasting another word before heading back to town.

Qrow sighed following after her. She was getting better, he couldn’t deny that. It wouldn’t be long before the others noticed the small changes in her. Winter rode in caravan a bit more relaxed, even smiling just the slightest bit at jokes thrown around her. Her back was straight not out of the need for a stiff posture, but pride among the people. Qrow could swear he heard her humming one of the songs Wyn lead in the line. Though as soon as he looked twice she had stopped.

Now wasn’t any different, she walked into the small town like she had lived there her entire life. Hands clasped behind her back, chest out and eyes high. She did have a nice figure, he supposed, fitting for a girl of her wealth. Not too skinny, but with strong legs, slim shoulders and soft facial features. Qrow didn’t realize he had actually stopped to watch her until she was almost out of sight.

He could practically hear Wyn smirk before he started singing from her perch on a porch railing, watching him trail after Winter. “ _As he lay on the ground, with darkness around-“_

“Alright,” Qrow waved him off.

The man fortunately let the small moment of weakness go, letting Qrow head off to dinner. A small tavern, but good meat, low lanterns lighting the tables. The waitress was cute, nervous as she should be with bandits in her tavern for the third day in a row, but not afraid. Qrow slipped her the extra lien in his pockets.

Wyn found his way to Qrow’s long table, Shay and Turq followed him with a few others. Winter came later, sitting with a chair between them. It was t too rare she sat with him now, though always left before the table became too crowded. His people ate and talked as if Winter wasn’t there, though Qrow would like to think that it was more of an accepting gesture than Winter saw it as.

She picked at her plate, never finishing the whole thing and sliding it over to anyone at the table. Wyn slid Qrow a mug of ale as Winter stood, leaving at her usual time. Shay immediately reached for her leftovers, Qrow sighed. He slid the mug back to his second, earning a mocking gasp. “Don’t burn this place down.” He warned as he stood. As he exited others threw jokes behind his back, Qrow focused on the odd bell that rang as he slammed the door to the tavern behind him.

Winter only spared him a glance as Qrow fell into step beside her. The town’s street was quiet, as they always were. Homes stayed dark, shades drawn in the windows and everything valuable kept inside. “Yes?”

Winter’s imitation of a greeting drew his eyes back to her. “We’re leaving tomorrow.”

“I was wondering that, I didn’t think the drinks were good enough to keep us here forever.”

Qrow fought the heat in his chest. Leaving for their next destination was not something he was looking forward to, and nights spent with a few men in the tavern apparently didn’t go unnoticed. “We’re not going any place fun.”

“And you felt like chasing me down a road was necessary to tell me that?”

Qrow sighed, perhaps she was getting too comfortable. “The Oro Tribe. They’re not exactly friendly. Allies, they helped us in the war, but their Chief lost both her children, and she is not going to be happy to see you.” Winter frowned. “I have to go. Raven called them to fight with us, and they did, we owe them more than what we’re giving. And it’s...expected.” He sighed. If nothing else, he would hope she could understand that. “As is my responsibility to keep you safe. I have a friend, nearby, in case anything happens.”

”Allies, but not friends?”

”Strong enough to not be crushed by us, but not strong enough to rebel.” 

Winter paused, tapping the hilt of her saber. “How good is your friend?”

“Good. He owes me a few favors.” Qrow assured.

Winter raised a brow. Qrow didn’t blame her, a poor explanation, but Shiro was an honorable man, he’d follow through if needed. He hoped.  

“I guess you’ll just have to trust me.”

Winter looked to the ground, stepping up to the door of the inn. Qrow thought that might be it, he stepped back, letting her go in if she wished. He told her what he had to, hopefully she’d actually believe him, that the warning was in her best interest. She could fight, he was confident in her ability to defend herself. She was also stubborn, and strong willed, but Qrow was uncertain what he’d do if something actually happened to her.

She slid open the door the inn, placing one careful foot inside before pausing. Qrow looked back to her, still facing inside.

“I do.”

Qrow couldn’t even open his mouth before she was inside, sliding the door shut behind her.

* * *

Winter nudged her horse to stay on the path. Qrow had not lied to her when he said Winter would be learning to sleep while on horseback. Though she never slouched like he did, Nadine was an excellent sport about riding together with her. She often leaned back to back as they rode. Winter made sure the girl slept too, though neither of them had gotten a full night’s rest in days, since they left the last town in relatively good condition.

At least their next stop should only be in a few days. The Oros were supposedly close with the Branwens, Winter would have to trust that they would respect what authority Qrow had, despite any ill will towards her, and his warning. She could make herself scarce, that’s all she did for the first week of her married life. Winter had stopped flinching at movements from the other tribesman that surrounded her, but that did not mean she had to surrender her trust to every bandit on Anima.

“Bored?” Qrow drew her from her thoughts, riding beside her at an even pace. The night was quiet, except for the murmuring caravan, and the stars bright. She had nearly forgotten about their small spat the other night, but she supposed she couldn’t do anything about it now. If he wanted to hover over her, she wouldn’t bother arguing. It was less than what she had expected from him to begin with.

“Just thinking.”

Her husband nodded, glancing back to the rest of his people. “It can get dull. Raven and I’d get into a lot of trouble while traveling when we were young.”

Winter hummed an acknowledgment. She could believe that. Qrow always seems to be moving, whether it’s walking beside his horse to rest it, or swinging his legs, or switching from facing backwards to forwards when talking to someone. Qrow’s warm smile fell slightly, though he must not have expected her to say anything else. Their conversations were still mostly at a minimum, if anything they were about training, or information she required. “I was a restless child, as well.”

The surprise was clear on his face. Winter may as well have punched him. “Really?”

“Yes.” She nodded quickly, looking up to the sky. “When I was alone, I would get bored. I wasn’t allowed to train yet. I would jump on every tile in all the halls, echoing against the walls. I’d move the carpets to make sure I got every one. My mother warned me if I jumped any more I’d get stuck up with the stars.”

Qrow stared at her for a moment, before following her gaze. “When I was little I would wander off all the time, my father had to tie my hands to the horn,” he patted his saddle, Winter ignored the small twinge in her stomach. “Say that next time I ran, he wouldn’t come looking. And I’d watch stars, eventually learn where we were based on them.” Qrow leaned back and pointed towards the sky, going on as if Winter wasn’t even there, but she followed his hand, pointing out constellations. “There’s the Three Eyed Raven, and the Dragon of the West - it’s actually east right now, the First Redwood, the Maidens, the Shallow Sea,”

Winter was watching him more than the sky sooner than she realized. Her face flushed, and she looked back to the stars before he could catch her.  “Their names are different in Atlas.” Winter cleared her throat, pointing to similar spots among the stars. “The Dust Belt, the Girl in the Tower, the Winter Maiden, and the Golden-”

“Just Winter?” Qrow interrupted.

“Yes,” Winter pointed to the constellation again, the few stars surrounding it. “The body, the snow around her.”

“That’s four bodies.” He tilted his head to look at the stars sideways, nudging her to do the same. “Four lines. Four Maidens.”

“It’s one.” Winter argued, but no anger was held inside or her tone. “The others are too misshapen.”

“Oh, you want the stars to line up for you?” Qrow shrugged a shoulder. “Not everything’s gotta be perfect.”

“Obviously.” She huffed out a breath, turning away to hide the slightest smile across her lips.

“And what is that supposedly-” Winter gasped, the billet of her saddle snapping swiftly. The saddle lurched to the side, sliding from the uncaring horse’s back. Winter wrapped her hands up in the reins, feeling herself nearly slide off the horse, Qrow’s hand wrapping around her wrist to hold her up.

Winter barely heard him mutter a ‘sorry’, pulling herself back upright. She held onto Qrow’s shoulder to stay balanced as he tied the billet sloppily together. “I can stop it- fix it. When we stop, soon. It should do. Are you okay?”

“Yes.” Winter sighed, ignoring his nodding for her own embarrassment. “I’m alright.” She knew how to ride, a little strap breaking should not have been enough for her to almost slide right off. Winter decided she must have been distracted, though by him was not the most respectable thing she could have answered as to what. Qrow even seemed slightly flustered, though he hadn’t done more than just catch her falling.

Winter ignored the burning in her chest, unconsciously fixing the shawl around her shoulders to keep the blush on her skin from showing. She was thankful when he turned away, back to the path. He at least knew when to make an exit, though she couldn’t help but notice the guilt in his eyes.

They rode on for nearly a week more. For as dreadful as Qrow sounded for coming here, Winter wasn’t all that intimidated by the Oro’s camp. Not many tribesman around - at least not as many as Winter expected, though more than their own by far - only moderate defenses around the perimeter, and mostly modest tents spread throughout the clearing. They were halfway through the camp and Qrow’s party were already setting up their own shelters for the night.

Winter dismounted, someone was already taking her horse before she could even look back to it. She kept a hand on her saber, weaving through the crowd to look for Qrow. She ignored the _slight_ feeling of disappointment that he didn’t find her once they were close. Most didn’t pay much attention to her, until they actually got a good look. Winter supposed she should have expected to stand out, even here outside Qrow’s circles. Seemingly all at once the gathering parted, leading to the largest tent near the back of the camp. Most just stared, others muttered to each other. Winter resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It was like walking into the Branwens for the first time all over again.

One whistled at her, Winter heard a rock fly past her ear. Qrow was by her side in an instant, shoving aside someone in the crowd and keeping a hand on the hilt of his sword. Her chest swelled, but a high whistle had them all turning.

“Don’t be cruel to the girl, now.”

An old woman hummed from her place in front of a tent. Gray hair, a long braid down her back, with sharp brown eyes. She picked at her teeth with a single particular long nail, the other scratched the head of a particular large bear that had Winter backing up a step. There was the occasional bear spotted far outside Atlas’s wall from time to time, sometimes thrill seeking rich men would go out to hunt them, but never had she seen a bear this large. Fat, brown, with black cloudy eyes that seemed like they didn’t even see anything.

The other tribesman around them muttered amongst themselves, but ultimately dispersed, back to mulling around. Chief Oro stood from her rock perch, patting the large brown bear sitting beside her. “Come here, I haven’t seen you since you were a boy.” She smiled warmly, Winter glanced to her husband before following him. Her greeting went right over Winter, stepping close to Qrow, only coming up to his shoulders. “Ave’s a damned liar, you don’t look like your mother t’all.”

“Anything to distance himself.” Winter saw his lips twist into a wry grin. Oro boomed out a laugh, her bear shook its head and stood. Winter’s free hand went to Shattered Ice, Qrow sent her an assuring glance.

“Well, come on. I know you must be tired, all the way out here just for me.” She wiped a fake tear from the corner of her eye, waving them to follow. Winter didn’t hesitate to take a step forward, though Oro glared.

“She’ll be staying with us.” Qrow defended, and smiled falsely. “I’m not just a man now, but a married one at that.” The woman just clicked her jaw shut and continued.

Winter frowned as she hobbled in front of them, long spear serving an excuse for a cane. The bear followed her just as slow, fat waving with every step. Qrow kept pace beside her, raising a brow.

“You couldn’t possibly have warned me about the...pet?” She kept her voice low.

He shrugged, matching her volume. “I thought it’d be dead by now, thing’s gotta be twenty years old.” Winter grinded her teeth, looking the animal up and down. “They do call her the Bear for a reason.”

“And you left that reason out of your grand statement of trust.”

Qrow shrugged again, shoving his hands into his pockets. Winter sighed, adjusting her shawl over her shoulders. It was getting warmer as they went south, but she still didn’t want to give in to these people’s dress, especially among strangers. She agreed to lighter fabrics, kept her hair of her neck, and didn’t fuss if her sleeves didn’t reach her wrists. But an exposed neck was a different case.

Oro continued through her camp. There were shabby looking stalls, small defenses, and many more tents than men as far as Winter could guess. She led them to a tiny area near the back, a simple table and bench next to a pit for fire. Her people stayed near the front, mingling with Qrow’s or returning to their daily lives. It seemed like the place was deserted when they reached the back of the camp.

The Chieftain sighed, her bear seemed to mimic her. It flopped down, brushing up dust and dirt around it. “Say what you came here for.”

Winter stepped back when Qrow sagged his shoulders. He bent down to one knee and ducked his head before her, Winter resisted the urge to check behind them to make sure none of the others were watching. Why Raven sent him to do these acts instead of herself became clear. Qrow’s men held respect for him to a point, but a blatant act of submission would damage what little he had, no matter how much it was necessary.

Qrow stayed silent, Oro glanced to Winter for just a moment before her husband finally spoke up, lifting his eyes to meet Oro’s. “Whatever I say is not going to take back what happened to your daughters. They were called to fight and they did, and I know there wasn’t a choice in that. There’s no asking forgiveness, there’s nothing we can give to replace them. Know that your people have no shame cast on them, or you. Your children died fighting. And I’m sorry, in every way.”

Oro stayed quiet, good at keeping neutrality across her face. “I suppose that’s how it’s always been.” Qrow stood, relaxing just the slightest Winter noticed. “The weak die, the stronger live, and you’re living pretty well these days. I hear at least. Don’t even say anything,” Oro held up a hand when Qrow opened his mouth. “I’m too old to spit on a Branwen’s boots and see what’s left of what I have taken from me. I don’t want anything from you.”

Her eyes darted to Winter, and she took small pride in remaining unflinching from it. Qrow cleared his throat, they still bore into each other. Winter still said nothing, the woman had gone through great loss and she would not give Oro a reason to think Winter took pleasure in that.

The bear huffed out a breath, rubbing its paw over its eyes and groaning. “Get your people settled.” Oro finally broke away from Winter’s eyes, seemingly all tension gone from her. She tapped her spear into the ground once, before hobbling back to the rest of the camp.

“Should I assume that went better than expected?” Winter hummed as Qrow started back a few moments later.

Qrow scoffed, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’ll have to see.”

* * *

Qrow licked his lips at the wine, too sweet for his taste, but he drank anyway.

Oro wouldn’t break out her best for him, especially with Winter at his side. He didn’t miss her aggressions, though the woman was playing at forgiveness. No one was old and wise enough to simply move pass the last of their family line being wiped out. The chief of her tribe dead, the others - over three quarters of what used to be their Tribe - dead or deserted them.

The dinner that was put together in front of them reflected her dwindling numbers, as well. Rabbit stew, simply cut vegetables, ale and bread. No main course, her hunters were gone. The dinner was just him, Winter, Oro, and no more than five of her people. Perhaps he shouldn’t worry about being overpowered. He had little when it came to people in his party, but they were still fighters.

He emptied his cup without realizing it, Oro going on about something he didn’t listen to. Winter beside him seemed equally uninterested, he glanced her way every now and then to see a straight back and hands off of the low table, but mouth turned to a hard frown.

A few times throughout the meal she cleared her throat, reaching for more of her wine to wash whatever down. He heard her sigh, though slowly it became more of forcing out breaths. Qrow had to wonder if she was really that bored to break her usual manners, or maybe his people were rubbing off on her.

He pushed the stew around in the small bowl, another one of her men drawling on about Grimm near the river. Winter took her shawl to wipe at her face, sweat broken out around her forehead. Qrow frowned, but she didn’t acknowledge it herself, so he wouldn’t either.

Qrow finally turned his head once Winter practically ripped off her shawl. The woman would rather die than be seen as indecent in public, especially around this crowd. Winter leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table in her head in her hands. A slick sheen covered her shoulders and the back of her neck.

“Winter?”

“Do not tell your sister how this was done.” Oro chuckled from across the table, her men standing from their places to either leave or stay by the entrance. “But I had to do myself, but I’m getting old, and this way is much easier.”

Qrow frowned, Winter was just faster than him, despite the poison coursing through her. She smacked her cup off the table, hand curling around the edge for support as her breaths became heavier. “I thought you were all about strength.”

“I’m not as spry as I used to be.” Oro deadpanned. Winter practically clawed at the table, Nadine ever at her side, helping her stand steady. Qrow reached for Harbinger’s hilt, staying between Winter and the Chief. “If I knew you liked this one so much, boy, I would’ve done it quicker.”

The familiar sound of Winter’s glyphs sounded behind him, as well as the three men guarding the exit groaning. “Take her east.” He barked to Nadine as she helped Winter out of the tent.

“Wan’s a lot farther than you think he is.” Oro downed the rest of her drink, standing to take the long spear from her back.

“A lot more loyal, too.” Qrow kept Harbinger in front of him, glancing once to make sure Winter was out.

“I heard you had a few issues with that.” Orro smiled, Qrow’s anger grew even further in his stomach. “Loyalty killed my daughters. Atlas was just the sword.”

“And they have paid for that.”

“She didn’t.”

Qrow stifled a flinch at the sound of people shouting outside, familiar voices of his Tribe and those of Oro’s. Weapons were clanging in an instant. He could pray they were fighting for him, for Winter, but it was a plain fact they were outnumbered. “And my people?”

“Need a lesson in humility. All those years spitting on those beneath them.”

Qrow flinched at his own shot, Oro falling backwards off her chair and sprawled across the ground. Of course he'd defend his own people, but this was easier than denying her words outright. Qrow shut his eyes, pushing the weight of what he’s done off for now. Oro did not lie when she said she wasn’t as quick, Qrow was surprised as much as she was that the bullet landed without her even having time to flinch.

He burst out of her tent, the rest of the camp in a complete brawl. He could pick out over ten of his men fighting, the other’s just out of sight. “Wyn!” He barked across the field, his second yanking his axe from another’s back. Wyn didn’t need to be told anything before he sprinted over, backing Qrow as they made their exit.

He’d take Raven at his back over anyone else any day, but he made do with what he had. Qrow could see a few of his men fighting, though most of Oro’s came charging at him as they backed towards the end of camp. A blast from his shotgun took out one charging, he heard Wyn arc his axe behind him and the thud right after. One after the other, Oro’s people seem to crash down like waves on them, Qrow prayed Winter made it out.

The glint of sharp red dust out of the corner of his eye drew his attention. Wyn wiggled the crystal before chucking it over the heads of those coming towards them. Qrow flipped Harbinger’s blade clear of the barrels of his shotgun, lining up a shot aimed right at the dust. Wyn tackled one who charged in his way, and Qrow blasted the dust crystal, the violent explosion flooring all of them.

The fire spread quickly, most of Oro’s people turned to save their smoking homes rather than chase after him. The bear roared somewhere amidst the chaos. Qrow shook the blurriness from his vision, ash falling from his hair. He scrambled to stand again, Wyn nearly pulling his shoulder out of it’s socket hauling him up.

“Horses.” He jerked his chin towards the shoddy stalls. Qrow didn’t turn to see the enemy Wyn buried his axe into before heading for the animals.

Fire spread around them, engulfing the camp’s tent and wooden defenses. The horses squealed in the pen, galloping away as soon as the doors opened as an escape. Qrow grabbed one by the reins, nearly stumbling the animal from stopping it so quick. Wyn was already riding on without him, away from the fire and the few still looking to kill them.

Qrow hauled himself up on the horse, kicking it sloppily to get away, anywhere from the burning camp. A last shot to one of Oro’s chasing after him, and he was free of the camp.

The forest immediately outside of the walls seemed ignorant to the fire raging, calm and quiet. Qrow let out a breath, his horse trotting aimlessly away from the fire. Now to hope Nadine had some sense to her and did what he told her.

“Tracks.” Qrow whipped around to face Wyn, who pointed to the prints in the mud. “Girls went east.”

He didn’t wait to kick his horse into a gallop, following the path. Only one clear set, he could only hope it was them on horseback and not one of Oro’s men chasing after them. The forest was too thick to get far very fast on foot. He should have given Nadine better directions, east was too vague, they could run right past Shiro’s camp and he’ll never find them. Every few hundred feet, they lose the prints and wander in a similar direction until they find something close enough. Miles away from Oro’s Qrow couldn’t see any of the fire anymore, but the tracks were light and fading to nothing.

“Shit.”

Qrow’s panic was slightly misdirected towards the knife thrust into his back shoulder.

He cursed, free hand going to the blade instinctively before twisting around in his saddle, meeting the hazel eyes of Winter’s serving girl. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know that was you, I was told to protect her...”

“I told you to go east.” Qrow gritted out. The girl practically whimpered, and reached up to try and pull the hilt. Qrow had to stop himself from shoving her away. “Don’t touch it.”

Winter didn’t seem to notice his arrival, curled up against a tree behind Nadine, mostly hidden by brush around them. She held one hand on her chest and the other covering her eyes. Her skin was flushed, slow as she forced in shaky breaths, chest wavering with every desperate attempt.

Nadine was practically shaking as well. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Qrow blew out a breath, forcing his hand away from the blade still embedded in him. At least whatever Oro poisoned her with wasn’t fast acting. Her pride couldn’t let her kill a Schnee with poison alone, she would have drawn it out before ending her herself. “We have to move her.”

He dismounted, Wyn trotted up behind him to take the reins. It didn’t take much to get Nadine to listen, she slung one of Winter’s arms around her shoulders. She nudged her towards Qrow, a particularly loud boom from the chaos beyond them turning it more into a shove. Qrow wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled Winter towards him. She threw out a fist instinctively, reaching blindly for her saber. Qrow took her wrists.

“It’s me.” He soothed. “Winter, it’s me. We have to go, you’re gonna be alright.” Winter blinked, he saw the fog clearing just enough from her eyes - he had to stifle a flinch at how bloodshot they had become - as she stopped fighting him, but her gasping remained. He nodded to Nadine, pulling them further out of their hiding place, glancing around to see if anyone was waiting for them out in the open.

The knife in his shoulder pulled and he held back a hiss. If he’s lucky she just hit the meat of his shoulder instead of any nerves. Qrow flexed his hand, looking for the horse they had rode here on. He had to stifle his anger at why the hell they would stop in first place. Wan’s camp had to be miles from here, unless Nadine was hiding some spectacular strength, she might as well had turned back and hand Winter over to what was left of Oro’s Tribe.

Wyn frowned, the maid girl standing between them. “Where’s the horse you were on?”

“She fell from it. I jumped after her, but it ran off.”

Wyn rolled his eyes. “Just help me with her.” Qrow growled, mounting and held out a hand. Both him and Wyn hauled Winter up to sit in front him.

Her hair was coming loose from it’s ever perfect bun, long white hair streaming down her back. Qrow cradled her back to keep her steady on the saddle, skin burning through the light fabric of his shirt to his chest. “Easy,” he soothed, Winter curled one arm around her chest and the other hand held to his shirt.

“My chest is, collapsing.”

“No,” he shook his head, only partly believing himself. “Just feels like that.”

“We got to go.” Wyn nodded back to Oro’s, Nadine already at his back.

Qrow nodded, flicking the reins and sending the horse into a gallop. They had a good start, and the chaos of setting Oro’s camp on fire would be enough to keep her men busy for a while, at least. A few might have been sent after them, but once they were in Wan lands no one would follow them, hopefully.

All he could do was ride, hard, and maybe they’d make it before morning. The knife in his back at least kept his aura busy, and away from powering his semblance. Might as well be dead if his horse stumbled and snapped a leg. A few times he thought he’d left Wyn and Nadine, until they came round a bend of thick brush beside him again. Winter clung to him, which worried him more than her labored breathing. As they went on she started coughing wetly, Qrow steeled his heart and carried on.

The moon kept rising above them, at some point he lost Wyn for good. He didn’t bother looking back, he would have heard if they were somehow overcome. His own horse was slowing by the second, ears pricking every now and then. Every few minutes he slowed to let him rest, but Winter’s hiccuping breaths had him pushing the animal again. The fear of anyone following them was quickly snuffed out by his fear for her.

The forest thinned, Qrow heard the river before he saw it, and veered to follow it once they came across. A straight shot now, he was sure of it. The forest stopped all together, a nearly perfect line, and dipped into a valley. Like light from heaven, the Wan clan’s fortress walls were lit up, more than three men at the gate. A large clan, rarely nomadic, and defenses to prove it.

“Halt!” As Qrow slowed in front of the gate, a man pointed a crossbow at him from atop. He horse stomped, panting as bad as Winter was.

“I am Qrow Branwen.” He shouted up to the guard, getting nothing in response. “I need to see your Chief, and a healer. Now.” The man muttered something to the woman next to him, shaking his head. Qrow growled, brushing his hair from his eyes. He ripped the black band from his wrist, shoulder screaming as held his wrist to the light, his brand was exposed and telling.

The guards seemed to flinch back, speaking lowly to each other again. The third disappeared after a nod from the woman, and the gate slowly swung open.

Qrow’s horse plodded into the camp, and they were immediately swarmed by people. Guards demanded to know opened the gate, what he was doing here, one young woman asked what happened to her, others peeked out from tents and small huts to see what was happening.

“Get Shiro and someone who knows poisons. I will sort this out with your Chief.” He ordered over the questions, the young woman reaching for Winter to help her down. “Do not.” He yanked the reins, horse backing a few steps away.

“She needs to lay flat if she wants to breathe.” She snapped back at him.

“Qrow.” A voice boomed over the rest of them suddenly falling silent. All eyes glanced back and forth between them, Qrow kept himself tall and arms around Winter protectively.

“I’m cashing in, Wan. Right now.”

Shiro clenched his jaw, his people looking to him. He let out a small sigh, waving them all away, except the woman who reached for Winter. “Find Lali, take care of her.”

Someone scampered off further into camp, the woman reached again, this time Qrow allowed her to come close. Winter practically fell from the horse, resting on her knees before two of the Wans could catch her, leading her away. Qrow followed, Shiro’s hand at his chest stopped him.

“You have a knife in your back.”

“Yes.”

Shiro stopped him again, earning a glare. “Do I have trouble coming?”

“No.” Qrow deadpanned, paused. “But maybe a few more riders. Wyn? And a girl.”

“Alright.” Shiro sighed, looking back towards where the girl dragged Winter, before moving his hand away from Qrow’s chest. He stepped forward, feeling the blade imbedded in his shoulder get ripped free. He cursed loudly, whipping around to the Chief as warm blood started down his back. “And you really need to get this fixed first. Your girl’ll be fine.”

Qrow knew it was a blatant lie, Shiro didn’t just spend the last hours hearing her heave in breaths and cough up blood. He was handled into a large tent, another man looking like he was just woken up blinking blearily at his wound. His aura did what it could to ease the sting as it was cleaned and sewn, and he let it. Best to keep his semblance down, distracting his aura with something important helped.

Eventually the healer let him go without a word, Qrow ripped through to the tent to see three people hovering over his wife, ignoring his entrance. One held her head up as another held a wide cup to her lips, another watched Winter drink heartily, though the disgust was clear on her face. Qrow saw three empty cups on the ground beside them.

She sputtered on the last drops, Qrow had to stop himself from taking a step towards her. The older woman holding Winter’s head waved the other two away, who gathered up the mess of supplies around the low cot. Herbs, spark rocks, things that were just lost on Qrow that they ushered away into boxes and took with them.

Lali rested Winter’s head onto the low featherbed, running hands up her neck and circles into her chest. Her breaths hitched every few seconds, but nothing compared to heaving Qrow listened to before. Her skin sheened from sweat, hair loose and sprawled out to hang over the edge of the bed. “Seems she’ll be alright, though might be a hard night ahead of her.”

Qrow nodded stiffly. “Thank you.”

“Some kind of Red’s Shade.” The healer continued, probably more to herself. “Though less concentrated, would take hours longer to kill her than the common mix.”

“But she’ll heal from this?”

“In time.” Lali hummed, wiping her hands on her trousers before standing. A few voices were heard outside, she turned to Qrow before grabbing what was left of her things. “Seems your riders made it.”

He looked to the slit in the tent. “Yeah.” Qrow sighed, ducking his head in his hands and wiping them over his face. The healer pushed out of the tent, leaving them alone. Winter’s slow breaths helped ease the pit in his stomach, at least he didn’t completely fail her. He was capable enough to get her to Shiro’s. He was in time, they made it, he got her safe. She’d sweat out the rest of the Shade for a few days and be fine. Qrow repeated that in his head instead of the usual guilty mantra.

He could have left her, no one would blame him for that. Ask him months ago he might have actually done it, all his problems would disappear. Oro would still be alive, her people still allied with his sister. He could hear Raven twisting the story already, that the Schnee girl got caught up where she shouldn’t have been in a small brawl, and paid the price for it.

Opening his eyes Qrow saw the light stain of blood from her coughing still on his shirt, and felt his stomach twist. This would’ve been so much easier a month ago, pass off blame to anyone else. Maybe even to the little jolt of his semblance he always felt during fights, intentional or not, but this was all his own doing. He put Winter in this situation, and now she’s paid for it. She had improved immensely in fighting, gained the slightest amount of respect from his people, but he should not have trusted her with any of Oro’s, no matter how soft he was getting with her. His warning meant nothing, his submission to Oro meant nothing.

One snip from her weeks ago had him trusting again, and this was always the price for it. He was a fool for thinking Oro would do anything but try for Winter’s life. Admittedly, he didn’t think she would sink so low as to use poison on a woman in her own home, but that doesn’t mean the fault wasn’t with him.

Qrow sighed, rubbing his shoulder before making an attempt to stand. At least Winter’s girl didn’t split any nerves in his arm, though it was a good strike. He should check on her, at least tell her Winter will be alright. Make sure her and Wyn didn’t have any other trouble after he left them. Another strike of guilt in his stomach hit, he didn’t even know how many of his own were left, even the ones who fought for him.

The sheets ruffled, he turned to see Winter blinking blearily up at him, sweat still shining against her skin.

“I’m so sorr-“

“Stay.”

Qrow paused. He could have misheard, Winter’s voice was weaker than he imagined it ever could be.

“Please. Stay with me.”

Every sense he had in mind screamed a resounding no, that after everything that has happened he should be the last person she wants to be around. Everything he put her through, he doesn’t deserve being around her either. All trust in him she might have gained should be destroyed.

Still, Winter waited, eyes soft and sprawled out behind her in the low bed. Qrow looked back to the exit of the tent, low fires from outside barely flickering light. He closed his eyes, shaking his head. By now he thought he would have learned something.

Qrow slid onto the bed behind her, feeling the heat continue to roll from her skin. She brushed her hair away so he could lie close, grabbing his hand to wrap an arm around her waist. He heard her small sigh, breath hitching the slightest and her back hit his chest. He let himself lay for a while, their breaths syncing together. The exhaustion was starting to really set in, from his hips aching from riding to the wound in his back to the fear of trying to get her here. Another apology was biting at his tongue, an excuse to leave as guilt crept back up at him again.

Winter let out a content sigh, squeezing his hand still in her’s. Qrow mimicked her, letting his eyes drift closed. He focused on her breaths, sound of crackling fires, the smell of whatever medicine they gave her. They were safe, they were together, and exhausted enough that sleep took them both peacefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a few things about this chapter  
> 1\. Yeah, cliche, for the most part, but I think it worked. They needed a little nudge to get things moving, a bitter old woman is always there to provide  
> 2\. It's really kind of old (for me at least-this is in no way meant to be a callout or giving myself a pat on the back) that Qrow's semblance is either huge, disastrous catastrophes, or tripping people, I think there's a lot of missed opportunities with his semblance, as well as everyone's really. If there's one thing I hope the show does with him and Raven, it's show how they actively use their semblances against each other in unique ways because there's just so many possibilities around how that goes down.  
> 3\. I swear Winter's not going to need saving the whole time, she's such a badass in the show, and she's getting there in my little AU. Qrow's also seeing that as well, and as soon as he starts falling, he falls for her hard  
> 4\. I read a headcanon forever ago that Qrow wears that wristband to hide a brand from the Tribe and I forget that it’s not actually canon  
> 5\. I definitely disguise my minor OCs as canon characters by taking names from the mission board we saw in V5  
> 6\. There was a ton more I wrote for this chapter, but it was just way too long and bloated and I knew where I wanted it to end so a few things are missing, but nothing important at all  
> I could go on forever in the notes but that kinda ruins the fun ha ha. Hope you enjoyed, please let me know what you think in the comments! Thank you for reading!


	5. Why Choose to Lean on Those You Knew Were Falling

Small voices stirred Winter from her sleep.

Heavy eyes and tired muscles were the next thing to gain attention. After the days she’s spent in the same bed, sweating out toxins and feeling the lingering burns in her lungs, little voices waking her instead of the need to vomit was welcome.

Even if the voices belonged to whispering children, asking each other what they saw from the slit in the tent.

“What are you doing?” Winter smiled some, not bothering to open her eyes at the sharp scold that could only belong to a mother. “Leave them be, all of you. Go!”

She heard scuffling feet, one groan, Winter chuckled to herself. With blinking eyes she saw the bright orange of her tent, the day must have already started for everyone else. Qrow didn’t travel with any children, though she knew there were some amongst the Branwens. The ones here made themselves known apparently too often, for as much scolding she overheard in the past days.

Winter had ideas of where she was, blurred memories of Qrow racing them here. None of how they ended up staying together the past few days. Not that she didn’t want him. A constant, familiar presence was not unwelcome through her recovery. When they told her she’d need to sweat whatever that Oro gave her out of her body, they were not exaggerating. She had a fever that lasted at least four days, time escaped her at most points through the extremes. Body consuming heat, turning into wracking nausea, that turned into crippling starvation. They fed her mostly honey, and whatever awful brew they kept giving her, insisting that it helps. She was glad, at the very least, they didn’t leech her. Once her aura was restored, her healing process accelerated immensely. The last day of so she had started to feel human again.

Winter rolled over, hand skimming the linen to find the other side of her bed cold. She frowned, curling her hand into the sheet as she rolled to face the other side. Occasionally Qrow would be sitting on the edge of their cot, quietly so he didn’t wake her, silent and thinking. She didn’t mention that after the first exhausting night, he startled awake more often than not.

He lost men for her, she figured out that much. She didn’t know if that was the cause, or something else, but didn’t ask. She didn’t know how many were lost, but stayed silent on that matter as well. Winter wasn’t sure how he’d react, or when she herself started caring in the first place. 

Now he was nowhere, not that Winter would admit she’d looked in the first place. Simply used to his warmth at her back, that was all. She stretched her arms out above her, feeling the pull in her unused muscles. She felt determination to move swell in her chest. At some point they’d left her a change of clothes, a wrap that she had a feeling Qrow managed to procure for her.

Winter reached for the shawl, wrapping the bright mix of colors around her shoulders. The Tribes she’s seen were grays, blacks, and mostly reds. Maybe that was just the Branwens, but from what little she’s seen of Wan’s camp was bright oranges, rich greens, and sharp patterns. The quilt they gave her was a simple gray, and the wood furnishing, and besides that Winter was pleasantly surrounded with color.

She reached for Shattered Ice, where it leaned against a post in the tent. Harbinger was already gone. Winter settled her saber against her waist, bracing before shifting all her weight off the bed and onto her feet. She swayed, holding a hand against one of the posts for balance until the rush in her head calmed. A single step had the dizziness came rushing back, Winter fell to her knees.

The healers told her more than once in her hazy state that recovering would take time. It seemed that walking on her own would be a part of that, though she was not deterred.

If Winter had one virtue, it was patience when necessary. She folded her legs beneath her, remembering the small exercises to calm her, clear her lungs, and restore her strength. Her aura flowed through her like a cool breeze, chasing the ache in her chest away and cleared her head from the unsteadiness. Like an iron reinforcement, it ran through her bones, strengthening her. Winter chased away the blue glow from around her skin, but kept the coolness fueling her steps.

The bustle from outside became more noticeable as she pushed out of the tent, blinking against the sun. Immediately she was almost knocked back by three boys, no more than ten, racing each other with a large bone in the hands of the leader. Other tents surrounded her, people sat around fires cooking lunch, one man tugged a huge, black ox through the space, a group of men dealt cards, another two sat with chins in their hands, puzzling over a board between them, though Winter saw no standing chess pieces.

It was by far the busiest place they’ve been since leaving the rest of the Branwens. She pulled her shawl closer over her chest. She had nothing to tie her hair up with, the wind blew it gently across her back, and she ignored the stares or curious looks. She wondered if these people even knew she had been here for nearly a week. Winter didn’t dwell on it, her stomach growled lowly, and she was still sluggish enough for that to be the only thing that mattered.

Her mind drifted back to her mother, many years of advice on how to appear poised, elegant, but also confident. A Schnee could be surrounded by strangers, but they were still in control, and knew every move to make to get their way. Wan’s camp was unfamiliar, and she admitted to herself she didn’t know where she was going, but she would see still appear like she did. Qrow couldn’t be far, the past few days she couldn’t think of a time where he wasn’t within reach.

Some greeted her as she passed through, offering her food or tea or a place to sit, Winter only asked to be pointed towards their Chieftain. She didn’t know much at all about Shiro Wan, besides he was the one who pulled her husband away. Though she couldn’t blame him, Qrow bringing a stranger and some injured stragglers of his people would raise questions in her mind, as well.

She passed Wyn, whispering close with a woman who grinned widely at whatever he told her. Nadine was braiding some ribbon into another girl her age’s hair, like some common girls Winter has seen in Atlas wear it. Nadine gasped and smiled when she caught Winter out of the corner of her eye.

“You’re alright.” She relieved when they were face to face. “You’ve been sick for nearly a week, do you feel alright, Miss?”

“Better than I previously was, thanks to you.” Winter nodded with poise, but a warm smile across her lips. “I do remember that it was you helping me away from my assailants.” Nadine brightened, blushed under her olive skin, and opened her mouth, but Winter was quicker. “I heard that you stabbed my husband.”

“I-“ the pride died on her tongue, Winter felt cruel from what was meant to be a jest. “It was truly an accident, I couldn’t see well, I hope you understand-”

“I do.” Winter assured hurriedly. “I also heard it was quite a good throw.”

“Oh,” Nadine relaxed her shoulders, looking back at the girls behind them. “I have been shown a few things. From another girl, if that’s alright. She’s been kind.”

“Good. Keep learning.”

Nadine blinked, looking between Winter and the others. She paused, nodded, and started off back to them.

Winter continued on through the camp, avoiding the same group of children who came running around again. She found her way to what she was told was Shiro’s tent, smoke swirling from an opening near the top.

Winter was surprised at her own hesitation outside the tent. Entrances to another’s space were done so differently here, she supposed she’s never actually had to intrude before. Her life in Atlas allowed her to send any servant to summon someone else, knocking herself was foreign. Not that knocking was common here, they pushed their way into any tent necessary, whenever they wanted. Any consequences of interruption were usually ignored. Winter wasn’t sure how the Wan’s Chief would take it if she were to barge in, Qrow being there or not.

The choice was taken from her, a small girl weaving past her and into the tent without a word. She popped out in a second, arms full with a blanket bigger than she was, and Winter took advantage of the opening and pushed the flap aside to enter. The disappearance of the sun made her head noticeably lighter, but she did not sway.

“A few more days and we’ll be out of your way.” Qrow’s voice caught her attention, adjusting in the light to see the two men sitting over a table, a few bottles and a cards between them. Neither of them were playing. He faced away from her, not even noticing Winter came in. “I know it’s a lot, with healers, and food.”

“I didn’t forget what you’ve done for me. That doesn’t mean I can just let your uninjured men act as if they’re above us.” The wiry, black bearded warrior sitting across from him must be the Chieftain of this camp, Winter noted. A light scar ran from his hairline and disappeared into his beard, his shape brown eyes barely looked up to notice her, before blinking and looking again to stare.

His expression caught Qrow’s eye as well, turning as he spoke. “I understand that, and I appre-” the words trailed off from his lips as he saw Winter. She watched as if gears were turning in his head, seeing her up and about for the first time in days, Winter thought it might have been best to stay in her tent. Qrow stood, Shiro following a beat after, though most likely out of curiosity over caution. “Are you alright?”

“Yes.” Winter assured, waiting for him to drop his hands as if she would keel over at any moment. She turned to face Shiro. “Your people have been exceedingly accommodating. I cannot thank you enough.”

“We were just getting to how thankful you should be.” Wan glanced between them. “It’s not easy hosting Branwens. Especially bored ones.”

Qrow opened his mouth, but Winter was quicker. She’s seen men bicker over what’s owed since she was a child. “I’m sure your reservoirs for ale were damaged, but rest assured your sovereign tribesman will restore whatever you have lost. There’s no need for us to stay longer than we’re welcome.”

Shiro ran a hand over his beard, seemingly in contemplation. “There’s been more than just a drunken brawl.”

“You heard what she said. Anything you’ve lost. As I’ve done before.” Qrow added, sending what might have been a genuine impressed look towards his wife.

Shiro seemed to deflate. “I’m not denying that. Just making sure that my debt is paid, and the other things will be overlooked, for good measure.”

“You have my word on that. And my thanks.” Qrow glanced to Winter, nodding with a gleam of pride in his eyes.

Shiro nodded back, and cleared his throat. Another small girl brushed past Winter, kneeling to whisper in her chief’s ear. Shiro shrugged a shoulder to the exit of his tent.

A clear indication that what they discussed was over, or at least put aside for now. Winter had no intention of being this man’s burden, or a reason to gain Qrow an enemy. She tugged as her shawl and spun on her heel, pushing back out into the sunlit field.

She could hear Qrow trail behind her a moment later, falling into step beside her. Winter was momentarily thankful, her legs had started to shake slightly. From excursion after her sickness, or from speaking so brashly to another chieftain, she didn’t want to know the answer, just thankful he was beside her.

“Have you eaten?”

“Are you my nanny?” Though, that didn’t mean she wanted to be seen as a child.

“What?”

Winter glanced back over to Qrow, seeing him serious. “Never mind. I feel quite fine, and apparently we’ve worn out our welcome.”

“Don’t worry about Shiro.” He waved a hand. “We can stay a while longer, he can handle it.”

Winter shook her head, wary of those around them that could listen. They kept moving as they spoke, most others kept to their own business. “We shouldn’t push them, I’m ready to leave.”

“Some of ours are still injured too.”

“Can they travel?”

Qrow paused. “Yes, but after-”

“Then now’s not the time to straggle behind and show weakness.” Winter sighed, the words tasted strange on her tongue, but after running from foes and relying quite heavily on shaky alliances, the Tribe did not need to look as if they were failing. “I don’t mean to take control, but I doubt what happened will stay private. I don’t think anyone who shares Oro’s point of view is very happy with us here either. Not to mention if there were survivors of her’s, then we’re putting everyone here at risk, for what?”

“You’re right.”

The shock that ran down her spine was only slightly more surprising than Qrow’s acknowledgement. Winter was used to her propositions being silenced, or ignored altogether. She made sure the joy in her features wasn’t too obvious.

“We can head back out by the morning, if you think it’s best. Please,” the soft tone again caught her off guard, Qrow softened his look. “Do not think you have to leave before you’re ready. Whatever comes after, he can handle it.”

Winter felt exhaustion still tugging in her muscles, but was determined not to be the one to hold any of them back. If a band of Branwens could fight for her, riding a few days early for their pride was at something she could do in return. “You don’t have to worry about me, we’ll ride at dawn.” She laid a hand on Shattered Ice, and found her way back through the camp. On her own, out of principle.

Qrow took his time returning to their tent. Winter thought he might not come at all, now that she could get on on her own if she pleased. And, in all honesty, directly guided his decisions. She blew out one of the candles lighting the hut when he pushed inside, hesitating when she turned to him. Qrow tapped the hilt of Harbinger, glancing back to outside, before cautiously sinking to sit on their bed. Winter only went on with darkening the tent, sliding into bed next to him without a word. They settled, breathing syncing as they fell into sleep.

Morning came peacefully, sunlight streaming in as bright orange streaks into their tent. Winter blinked to see Qrow still stretched out beside her, arm curling under her. His head rolled when she shifted, but kept still otherwise. Winter could take the few moments of peace, a single day and the camp was already seeming the busiest place they’ve been. Quiet was something to appreciate. She felt strain in her muscles,  a low ache in her chest told her sleep was calling again.

Instead Winter’s eyes strayed to the brand on his wrist, the rest of his arm cradling under her. It couldn’t be a scar, she concluded, it was too deliberate, unlike the other jagged lines she’s glimpsed on him. The band that usually covered it was gone, Winter didn’t even realize he wore it to hide anything in the first place. Her fingers lightly traced over the circular pattern, but couldn’t quite make out what it was supposed to be. Qrow stirred, sliding his hand and wrist to be under the pillow, other arm wrapping around her to push himself up.

“We gotta go.” He whispered, squeezing her shoulder. The feel of his breath across her skin made her heart speed up. Winter curled a hand over the blush on the back of her neck as he stood.

Winter sighed, his warmth leaving her back. She laid for a moment longer, until Qrow had fresh clothes on and Harbinger at his back, sending a worried look that pushed her to sit up.

The noise outside became clearer, tents being dismantled, horses saddled, some saying goodbyes. For once Winter was thankful for her things from home being gone, without anything to pack up they were allowed at least a few more moments to each other. She reached the shawl she’d been using, doubtful that anyone would take it back, and started after Qrow.

It seemed that even the small amount of people who still followed Qrow after Oro’s could still make a dent in Shiro’s camp. The clearing was noticeable thinned, with tents and supplies gone, ready to be carried to Argos.  

She saw Wyn try to pry himself away from one woman on an arm, a man on the other. He spotted Qrow and used him as excuse to leave, giving them both a last kiss on the cheek before nearly running to Winter and him. “I thought you two would never decide to leave.”

Winter grinned. “It looked as if you were making plans to stay forever, anyway.”

“Love is nice,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “But no reason to grow roots.”

“A true bard.” Qrow rolled his eyes, sending a slight smirk back at them.

Wyn spat back a rehearsed retort, Winter left him to his rambling to find a horse for herself. It seemed as though they had just settled in the Wans’ camp, and now they were off again. Within the hour they were back on a road, a much smaller company behind them.

She watched Qrow glance back soon into their journey, eyes darting from person to person. Winter looked off before he could realize she saw how his face fell at their small numbers.

Apparently a day back on her feet wasn’t enough to her used to riding days at a time again. By nightfall her hips ached, head heavy and back weak. Winter kept reminding herself to straighten her posture, no longer to be poised but to keep herself awake. She watched the stars from her saddle, feeling the ache in her neck.

Qrow drifted by her, not so subtly watched her struggle to remain seated. He glanced to Wyn, then to his people, some still recovering as well, though none looked as exhausted as Winter felt.  “We can stop.” He assured, despite Winter’s protests to keep going. She couldn’t hold them back, especially not after the last fiasco. Winter would not be seen as the weak link.

However, she was not subtle about how glad she was when they did start to make camp.

A small setup, nothing nearly as permanent as camp for months on end. Winter was surprised at herself that she could consider a home for only a month long stay.

From a spot on a log she rested, watching as Branwens settled in for the night. Many months with these people and she could still feel like an outsider in quieter moments. 

They ate together, Winter observing more than speaking per usual. It wasn’t like back in Atlas, though. People here joked with each other, open to listening to others if interesting enough, only getting annoyed when direct insults were thrown, and even then it was mostly playful. She wasn’t quiet because it was expected or no one spoke to her, it was just more interesting to hear what the others had to say. There wasn’t much she could add, anyhow. These people knew each other, some for their whole lives. They knew each other’s stories, if not experienced them alongside each other. Some night were roaring with conversation while others, like tonight, were a steady quiet.

Two men left to relieve themselves quite openly, Qrow got up to join them, throwing what was left of his food into the fire. He rubbed at the brand on his wrist, as if it ached, though Winter could not think of why.

Winter frowned, just slightly, at the action. She had only noticed his usual band was gone once she noticed the brand he’d apparently covered with it.

“Old thing.” A woman, Turq, Winter reminded herself, spoke up. Winter scolded herself internally at what must have been her obvious curiosity. The other woman went back to her meal, as if that were enough of an explanation.

Wyn sighed next to Winter, leaning over to whisper in her ear. “From years ago, when I was still young. Any tribesman gets caught in the wrong village, they’ll mark you to let everywhere else know you’re trouble. If they don’t just kill ya’. Some of the older folk still have theirs.”

Winter felt a bitterness at the back of her throat. “Older.”

“Older folks who’ve lived before the Branwens took over, well, everywhere it seems now.” He shrugged. “His father gave him what’s probably the last one.”

“But that’s not out story to tell to some Atlesian, is it Wyn?” Turq warned again, glancing back to where their leader left them to.

Shay leaned in from the side, the younger man giving up his act of pretending to not listen. “I heard it was over some girl. Chief burned the whole fuckin’ town and then-“

The small rock pelting the side of Shay’s face brought his rumors to an end with a curse. Wyn held no regret in his action. “You two gossip like children.” Turq added.

Winter was surprised at herself, how badly she wanted to the younger one Shay to continue. It also wasn’t often she saw any Branwen stop a story in defense of another, let alone one that wasn’t present. She knew little of her husband’s own past, a small glimpse was enough, even if it were meant to scare her. It would take more than that. And how quickly they all moved on to something else, she trusted she’d know more in time. Qrow hadn’t pushed her once when it wasn’t necessary, she could be patient.

Their fire dwindled, the others retiring to their tents. Winter raised an eyebrow when a younger boy with an arm in a sling opened his tent to Nadine. She blushed, curtseyed to this boys amusement, and went inside.

“She’s gotten used to things here.” Qrow’s voice should’ve drawn a flinch from surprise out of her, but Winter only felt a joy fill her.

She looked up to face him. “Strange to think about, most have taken a liking to her and back home I would never spare a glance.”

“Attraction’s different down here.” Qrow shrugged, holding out a hand to help her up. For the first time, Winter took it. “Let’s go, I know you're tired.”

“Might still be working through what’s left of it.” She sighed, not even annoyed he exposed her exhaustion. Not that anyone listened to them anyway. The words she’d been wanting to say for a while were so close to her lips, but he was already leading her from the others.

Winter followed him without quite realizing, back to his tent with a large plush mat on the ground. She supposed she didn’t really have another bed anyway, and after the nights together, one without Qrow seemed unappealing.

They laid back to back for a few moments, Qrow leaving space between them as he always did while still awake. Winter felt the need to say what she’d been thinking more than before. Her heart hammered for just a moment in her chest, before rushing her aura through her, relaxing everything within her.

Winter sighed, expelling any small doubt still left in her. He’s stayed, he’s saved her twice now. He could have cast her aside as soon as they were married and never even glanced back. Now she was sure it was different.

“I didn’t thank you.” She rolled over to face him, noses nearly touching. “For helping me. Or watching over me after… or for anything before.”

Qrow shifted slightly, but not away from her. His eyes seemed to catch what little light they had in the tent, sharp red softly looking down at her. “You don’t have anything to thank me for.” He paused, blinking slow. “You were forced into this, the same as I was. I’m sorry you were afraid of me.”

“I was wrong.” She rushed her answer, but Winter had long stopped waiting for someone to scold her. She let out a small, breathy laugh. “Everything I was told about you was wrong.”

“Wow,” Qrow chuckled lowly. “Can you say that again, I don’t want to forget it.”

“I’m serious.” Winter felt her stomach float up to her chest, despite the teasing. Her heart joined it in her neck when he relaxed his features, hand moving to brush hair from his face. It had grown longer as they traveled on, nearly able to tie it back now.  

“I am, too.” He assured, almost as if he were unaware of his own gesture. “You had a right to hate me. After everything I’ve done. You wouldn’t look at me even now if you knew.”

“I don’t care about any of that.” The words came out too quickly, and Winter very nearly tried to take them back. Of course she’s heard the stories, or rumours, she wasn’t sure yet which was true. Things that Branwen tribe does to uncooperating villages, how they came out on top of Anima’s power struggle. How Raven kept them on top, why she gave up her own daughter to a foreigner in Vale. What the others gossiped about behind his back. She couldn’t just ignore that, not like she was trained to do with her father.

But Qrow was kind to her, strong, and caring, and admirable. He kept the more violent men away from villagers, warned them properly the tribe was coming, fair and calm with disputes. She couldn’t imagine him raiding villages and making war out of malice. He mulled over every loss he suffered and wanted to pay everything he took back ten fold. She wanted to know more of his past, but it didn’t change how he was now.

They both fell back into silence, only the crackling fire outside and a few crickets chirping in the night filling the sounds between them. Winter let her eyes drift closed, though she didn’t want to stop. There wasn’t anything left to say, in her mind, she never felt pressure to keep Qrow entertained, to fill silences with things he wants to hear. They both could easily coexist, nothing needed from the other.

“I never wanted to hurt you.” Winter opened her eyes at the whisper. Qrow was looking down, avoiding her gaze, he didn’t want to face her. “Even before I knew you, I didn’t want to. I wasn’t going to.”

“I believe you.” They touched their foreheads, allowing another lull of silence to sink in. Winter felt her heart relax in her chest, wondering when she had gotten so used to being close to him. “Sometimes, I miss my home, and my sister,” she gathered her courage, as if there were someway she could stop herself now anyway. “Whenever I think about it, I don’t want to leave you.”

“I was scared of losing you.” Qrow mimicked her rushed tone, his raspy voice keeping quiet as it brushed her lips. “I didn’t know why, because I wasn’t supposed to be-“ She felt Qrow’s shaky breath against her skin, his lips pressed gently against her’s the next second. Soft, warm, but fleeting. He pulled away with a wavering breath. A test, she knew he wouldn’t push it past that if she didn’t want it. Winter licked her lips, pausing only a beat before her hands found the back of his neck, pulling them together in a kiss again.

Fierce and lasting, Qrow pulled them both up to close whatever space was left between them. A warm arm cradled her back and the other around her cheek, Winter’s hands curled into his hair and ran up the taut muscles of his back. The kisses turned eager, fervent. Winter tugged at his shirt, Qrow fell in and mirrored her, casting the quilts over them. He rolled to be over Winter, pulling at the laces of her blouse and refusing to take his mouth off her.

The noise of the world fell away, and any shame, guilt, loyalty, or duty disappeared. They both locked onto the present, wrapped up in each other.

* * *

If Wyn smirked at him one more time, Qrow was quite seriously considering shoving him from his saddle.

They ate breakfast in mostly silence as they rode, a few of the others talking to each other. Wyn has chosen to rip bites from his excuse for a meal while giving his leader a few smug grins. His third night with Winter had been just as interesting as the first, but familiar by now.

And apparently not as private as he previously thought.

Another smug look from his second had Qrow rolling his eyes. “What?”

Wyn blinked, as if shocked to be acknowledged. “What? What nothing, you just got a little glow around you. Wondering what that’s about.”

Qrow cringed at his involuntary glance towards Winter, despite feeling stupid at his actions. She was his wife, this was more expected than how they used to act around each other. Though among his caravan, Winter still kept her more chilly demeanor. “I think you figured it out.” He turned back to the path, the dirt slowly giving way to cobblestone. Argos must be close at last.

Maybe then they would have real time together. He was still anxious at Wan’s, and while traveling there wasn’t much time for anything you could do while riding. The few nights they’ve spent together in the last weeks seemed to be dense with magic. A different feeling filled Qrow from the inside, knowing Winter felt the same affection, and the passion too. He could still feel her smooth skin beneath his hands, the only scar being a thick line across one of her thighs, but he never mentioned it. There was a spot on her hips that made her lose her breath, but she wasn't as much of a maid as Qrow initially took her to be. The light of fires outside their tent gave her a certain glow, white hair turning red in the dim light. Not often he remembered details of others, never had he wanted to hold onto hers this badly.

Wyn’s sharp whistle interrupted his thoughts, “Come back to me, boy.” His booming laugh had Qrow rolling his eyes. “She’s got you tight, with her Atlas uppity pride and everything. Just think it’s funny, that’s all.”

“You are welcome to keep your amusement to yourself.”

Wyn bristled at Winter’s sharp tone from behind him. She rode to be between the men, staring daggers at the second but a small smirk across her face. “As the lady says.” Wyn bowed his head and slowed his horse, giving them space.

They rode in a comfortable silence for quite a while, enjoying the breeze and each other’s presence. Night was usually the only time they had a moment together. ‘Nice’ didn’t cover what Qrow felt like to be with her, and know this was what they were supposed to be doing. Bonded in marriage already, maybe loving her wouldn’t blow up in his face. Still, history had instilled the need to be cautious whenever happy.

He lost nearly half his men, all of Oro’s, from how it appears. There would be consequences for that, no matter how justified Qrow thinks it was. He could excuse staying in Argos for a while, but after that, their path was unclear. Especially if Raven would continue to make herself as scarce as she had since Qrow left. His men would want to go forward, find the action, they weren’t as keen on staying out as Qrow had become.

He saw her keep glancing towards him. Qrow’s learned when Winter has something just before her lips, that look on her face when she’s convincing herself to speak up. She never realizes she has it, he never wants her to. She glanced down, seemingly at his hands, and lost her look, gazing out to the path before them.

“How much longer?” She broke their silence.

“Day or two more.” Qrow assured, seems they both were eager to settle in somewhere. A breeze rustled the trees around them, blowing leaves from stems. Winter adjusted the thin wrap over her shoulders. “It’ll be cooler on the water, you’ll like it.”

“I’ve gotten used to the warmth.” She said. “Though it never reached this heat in Atlas.”

He hummed, content with listening, but Winter never went on willingly with the possibility of being overheard. She was more comfortable around the others, he’d noticed for a while now, but still rather kept to herself.

“How long will we stay?”

“Depends.” Qrow shrugged. “The Nikos’s are friends.”

“Similar to how Shiro is your friend?” Winter raised a brow at him.

“Shiro is my friend.” He insisted. “Just also owed me a debt. But no, they’re not a Tribe. Just own the city.”  In certain a way. The lead family of Argos hated Mistral’s emperor more than they dislike the Branwens. If every once in a while they provide a home to few wandering tribes, or offer some of their numerous goods in order to keep out of Mistral Empire, they’ll do it. Qrow’s done a few favors for them over the years, and gets housing any time he needs it. With how small their numbers are now, he doubted any Nikos would mind.

“But reliable?”

Qrow blinked at her tone. Not the teasing accusation, or the demanding question he’s come to know from her. Back to when they first me. Hard, short, just wanting to get any conversation over with. He wasn’t sure whether it was because she might actually still be frightened from what happened last time, or even resentful towards him because of it, but he hated that tone. “They are.” Qrow hardened the edge of his words, making her turn to face him, to make her believe it. “No one’s getting hurt.”

Winter let out a breath, and twisted her hands in her reins, before untangling them again. “Alright.” She said lowly, then raised her voice along with her chin. “Then we have nothing to worry about.”

Another day of riding brought a busier road. With traveling salesmen, families crossing the border from Mistral, wanderers and others all heading to and from Argos. He had to pry Shay from some poor girl he somehow cornered, though better to let his people get out any harmful tendencies before they reached city.

Argos was nearly exactly how he remembered it from years earlier. Carved into the side of a great hill, nearly a mountain, and stretched all along the shore surrounding the hill. All stone or brick walkways, carved into the land, with piers and docks spanning the beaches. Only one side of the city faced inland, able to see an oncoming army from miles away. The forest beyond their view was occasionally infested with Grimm, not to mention tough to get through without the numbers necessary. With the barriers, and a great stone gate only opened in peacetime, Argos prospered.

Most of the city was market, higher up the hills were the richer citizens, with shacks and small homes scattered about the city. The people lived relatively comfortable lives. Anyone able to catch a fish off any side of the city earned a meal, or a living. Relatively warm and calm climate, only homes on the actual beaches had to worry about flooding, most of the city was on top a cliff, away from the waves.

On the inland facing side, the small band of Branwens were allowed through the gate with little fuss, but a messenger was sent to warn their leader. Though unnecessary, Niko’s always found a place for them somewhere. It’s not like they demanded luxury.

Although the Oikos some serving girl led him and Winter to after they were passed the gate could be considered high end. Carved into the sea facing side of the mountain, a square stone structure surrounding a courtyard. Flowering bushes and a willow tree flowed in the breeze. Towards the sea there was an open bedroom, a balcony leaning over the lower parts of the city and looking out Remnant’s southern ocean. Just a boat ride away from Menagerie.

Qrow knew the others wouldn’t be given a private Oikos of their own, but he wasn’t worried. Seeing Winter actually relax in the solid, stationary home, he’d take any mockery he might get.

“Just friends with the Nikos’s, hmm?” Winter hummed at him, looking over the city from their balcony.

“A loyal friend.” Qrow shrugged, leaning over the stone bannister. “I saved their daughter, you know.”

“From what?”

“Some dangerous people.”

“Your people?”

“No.” Qrow corrected, shaking his head at her childishly. “At least, I don’t think so.”

Truth be told, he didn’t have a clear memory of who it was. Years ago, when he traveled mostly alone, a young girl was being attacked by three. Most would turn away, but Qrow knew himself better than that. Girl had an arrow in her back when he fended off the three. Qrow helped her back Argos, nearest city at the time, Nikos took her in to recover, and gave him thanks. Whenever Qrow tried to remember the three’s faces, nothing ever came to mind.

“It is strange.” He shrugged after his tale, but Winter was looking at him with admiration more than curiosity. “But I don't mean to chase after it. Argos has been friendly ever since. And the head family’ll notice if I don’t say why I brought a bunch a tribesmen into their city, so an appearance is expected.” He sighed.

“And after?”

“After I’m all yours.” Qrow clicked his tongue, earning an eye roll from his wife. He brushed hair from her shoulder, the white flow being down from her perfect bun for once, and kissed the smooth skin. “I promise.”

He met with the head family as promised, their unusually modest home open to him and a few other citizens of the city. The same vases, tapestries, and hanging plants were there since the last time he came, though the daughters seemed bigger as they passed through on his way to their parents. The redhead was probably Yang’s age, though already held a practice sword.

The Nikos’s were as welcoming as usual, though more worried about his run in with Oro than what he was doing in their city. He explained with little detail, ensuring there would be no trouble with his people - that he couldn’t handle - and patiently listened to Peleus Nikos gloat over his daughter’s achievements at such a young age. As well as Amber’s spectacular talent and growth under their care.

Qrow had to stop his mind wandering back to what was waiting for him more than once. It was past sunset by the time he could think of a valid excuse to leave the family’s company. Though he didn’t blame them, it was better no one knew how he longed for his wife.

The early morning sun sent bright orange streaks against the stone of their floor, seagulls waking to cry from the balcony and beyond. Winter held his hands in hers, watching the sun rise with even breaths. A cool breeze blew through the Oikos, Qrow let out a content sigh.

“I wish we could stay here.” Winter shifted, squeezing his fingers in her hand.

“We’ll stay as long as we can.” He assured, pulling her closer to his chest. “Raven knows how to rally people, but when there is nothing to get excited about, she’ll take her time finding her path.” In the meantime, finding an excuse to keep herself and her people busy. ‘Insubordinate’ villages, Mistral train raids, the shortest of visits to Taiyang across the world. Qrow was thankful to be left out of it. 

Qrow ignored the small pull at his spine, the same sensation he's come to know ever since Raven found her semblance. With Winter’s fingers threaded with his as the sun slowly rose, there wouldn't ever be a better excuse for him to stay away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still here! Hope this was enjoyable..though a little difficult for me at parts, hope that's not obvious :)  
> Winter did need time to recover but I didn't want anything to drag too much, but they're not completely out of the woods with what happened at Oro's! Kind of messing with canon's timeline with Qrow's relation to Nikos, but it was more something I wanted to add in on the side.  
> Also I'm kind of starting to do that thing where I get a little too involved with my own OCs, but Wyn and Nadine actually don't have too much of a role anymore so I hope no one hated them, but Qrow and Winter are getting on without anymore help so :) If anyone does care, Nadine's family name is Amber to follow the color rule (and Nadine's a German name sticking with Atlas's theme), and Wyn is the bandit-spelling of Wine, because why not go full bard with him at this point  
> I know updates have been unreliable, and with school starting up and my general slow process it might be a ride until the next one, but comments are always helpful! Thanks so much for sticking with me!!


	6. We Will Meet Back on This Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back much sooner than expected, hope ya'll enjoy!

Winter sighed in relief as the slight chill she endured was chased away. She leaned into Qrow’s chest, seemingly always warmer than her own skin.

He wrapped his arms around her’s when a small shiver wracked her. “Thought you didn’t mind cold?” He teased, resting his bearded chin on her shoulder as they watched the waves from their spot on the beach. The light from torches surrounding the dance performance just barely reached where they sat, but the cracked moon was the major source of light around them.

“I don’t mind cold.” Winter insisted, tugging at her long skirt to cover her feet. “I do mind being wet.”

And being so was a convenient excuse for both of them to be close. Even the warmest night can become miserable when soaked, Winter learned long ago. Her clothes were mostly dry now, hours after Qrow had dragged her into the ocean, insisting she come with him before their show started. They saw some poet and storytellers with dancers that didn’t hold her attention more than the endless waves could, and they ended out here on the dark beach. She wasn’t cold, but Winter didn’t push his comfort away.

The weeks in Argos, they were almost always together. But Winter did not want to be trapped in their estate, relying on her husband. She had regained her prideful confidence as their time in the city went on, to stop Qrow from worrying, but also to reassure herself. Winter often went to the market, restocking on the clothes and some jewelry she had lost on their way. It started out as much simpler things than anything she had in Atlas, and wanted it that way, but still Qrow tossed the Lien his family had to merchants with ease. Winter let him surprise her. Any suitors that brought her gifts before has always been disingenuous, it was nice knowing they Qrow's came from love. 

They had traveled the length of the city’s beaches numerous times, spent late nights on them as well, if private enough. He saw shows with her, mostly public events, though she grew bored of the similar stories they told in Atlas, with only minor changes. She’s used to watching meandering performances, Winter liked to talk to people. Qrow’s people, Argos’ rich and common, people she meets in shops. Even a few words from them interests her. She likes to know things.

A high whistle sounded from the show away from them, people clapped for the dancers and the poets finished their story. “Oh no, we missed the end.” Qrow sighed dramatically, scruff on his chin scratching her skin as he reached to kiss her neck, muttering. “Sorry.”

Winter felt the grin creep across her lips. “I’m not annoyed at that.” She assured, running her fingers through his beard, thick and wiry. They’ve both let details of appearances slip away from them, her own hair nearly reached the small of her back when loose. While Qrow’s hair was soft, almost fluffy, his beard was rough, and starting to look wild. “I’m annoyed at this small dog that’s quartered on my husband’s chin.”

She pushed him back to see his face, the slight pout across his features. Winter rolled her eyes while keeping her grin. He sighed, reaching for a small knife from a pocket.

“Do it with a real blade, Qrow, for goodness’ sake.” Winter laughed, and wrapped a hand around his wrist to pull the knife away.

“Hey, hey,” he smiled with her, flipping the knife to let it drop down into the sand. “My uncle taught me to shave.” She wasn’t sure who he talked about, but she didn’t miss his eyes glance down, some kind of sadness flicker through them. Winter wasn’t sure if it was regret or something else, but it was gone the next instance. “When I was young.”

He shrugged with a smile, so Winter kept her’s. “Well, you need to relearn from someone else.” She looked back to Shattered Ice, standing up in the sand next to Harbinger. “With a more delicate touch.”

“Oh, delicate?” Qrow followed her eyes back to their weapons, stark differences between them hard to miss. “Fragile is more like it.”

“Fragile? Ice was forged by one of the best craftsmen in Atlas!”

Winter’s mouth gaped as Qrow scoffed. “Craftsmen are for making fancy pots to piss into, anything useful you want done well, you should do yourself.”

“And that bulky thing is your own making?”

“Harbinger,” Qrow corrected her scorn and pulling her into his lap. “Has many hidden tricks.”

“Much like its craftsman.” Winter hummed. Qrow frowned, but the grin back across her lips assured him it was all teasing. She ran her fingers through his hair and leaned into kiss him deeply. “Harbinger is a gorgeous weapon.”

Qrow wrapped his arms around her waist, running his hands up her back. “Ice is too. And strong, and- mm,” Winter’s stomach floated as she cut him off with another kiss. “..Beautiful.”

She rolled his eyes at his breathlessness, continuing. The torches from the show across the beach were extinguished, leaving them in darkness. Qrow’s hands trailed up to her neck, to her hair, tugging at the braids keeping it in place. “Qrow,” she scolded, though a smile stayed as she cupped his chin. “We should go back.” Even a small insinuation at home in such a public place would be spoken of for weeks. Just because they’re not in Atlas doesn’t mean she has nothing to worry about. 

Nevertheless, when Qrow picked her up like a maiden and her squeal like a girl sounded through the beach, Winter never felt safer.

* * *

_“Control is not something you have.”_

_His father’s words floated through the still forest, backed only by the overflowing creek beside them. Qrow listened from his perch on a toppled log still wet from the thaw, guilt still twisting in his chest. He couldn’t help but keep glancing back towards the path, towards the village that was no longer at the end of it._

_Sparks crackled between his father’s hands, circling each other in practiced movements until they formed pure white bolts flickering from his fingers up to his elbows. Contained, and deadly, and waiting to destroy._

_Qrow watched him release a puff of breath in the cold air, before crouching low, striking out his arm with two pointed fingers, lightning following the path and happily continuing past his arm. The white bolts struck true to a tree the other side of the creek, racing up its trunk, turning blue near the edge of its branches. T_ _he soaked trunk split with a resounding crack throughout the forest, splintering into fours and falling to the ground. The splitting wood replaced the missing sound of thunder that nature usually demands with natural lightning._

_Avani stood straight, clenching his fists to kill the sparks that were left. “Control is something you gain. It leads to freedom.”_

_Qrow nodded, hands picking absently at the log’s bark. He lowered his eyes to feet, not yet tall enough to reach the grass below him._

_His fathered clear his throat, not content to be ignored. “Once you were a babe, without control of his own legs. The soul is infinite in distance and unbound by death. Like the skies we were born from. It will take stronger than the boy you are now to hold power over that.”_

_“I don’t know how.” The confession came quicker than he meant it to. Qrow felt his heart beat against his chest like a hammer._

_“You will have to find a way on your own. I can’t do this for you.” The Chief asserted, looking to the path that led them to the rest of the family. “Your semblance protects you, even if you don’t understand it. Like we all protect each other, if deserving. If you’re going to be careless, things you love will slip from your reach. No can help you conquer yourself.”_

A crack of thunder sounded overhead, Qrow rolled over in the silk sheets. The past sound of a creek shifted to pattering rain. The light drops splashing against their balcony brought in a cool breeze, chasing the memory away. Qrow shivered and reached for Winter, to find her side empty.

He sighed audibly, though she couldn’t be far. The resounding “Oh, hush.” He heard from near the balcony confirmed his suspicions, Winter wasn’t one for whining. Still, he longed for her comfort next to him.

It’s not uncommon for him to shake that longing as soon as feels it. Once, Qrow felt his semblance spark and no sooner than a second later had one of Winter’s bracelets snapped from her wrists, the beads sprawling across the ground, never to be seen again. Another spark a different time and a merchant’s basket broke through the bottom, ruining every fish he had just brought in from sea. Qrow thanked every god there was Winter didn’t seem to notice, though he knew he couldn’t keep such a secret forever.

Nevertheless, Qrow pushed his semblance to be out of mind more often than not. Only one night he couldn’t remember anything past walking into a pub in the center of the city, though now he couldn’t recall what brought him to it in the first place. After the drunken night, he resolved to try and not worry his wife, but also find peace with her. Winter was capable, strong, certainly quicker than him. Qrow repeated to himself that a small push into misfortune from his semblance wouldn’t be her downfall, to think so would be extremely underestimating her. After everything that’s happened - and continued improvement when they did find time to train - he wouldn’t sell her short.

So their quiet morning, when light rain pattered against the stone floor as the storm passed, was something he could appreciate, push any self doubt aside. He rolled to see her on the floor, facing the balcony, watching the dark clouds stretch all the way to the horizon, and slowly chipped whetstone at the edges of her saber. Qrow smiled at her hair down, flowing off her shoulders to her lower back. They both needed a cut, though the feeling of her fingers in his hair was something he’d rather not give up.

“It’s a lot later than it looks, you know.” She scolded, but Qrow saw the hint of a smile from what he saw of her lips. Winter nodded to the dark sky above them. “I hope you weren’t going to spend the whole day in bed?”

Qrow sat up on his elbows, shrugged. “I was hoping you were going to stay with me.” His grin grew at the look she sent back to him. “What good else is a dreary day?”

“It’s passing.” She corrected, standing with Shattered Ice in her palm. Winter leaned over the bed to cup his cheek and Qrow leaned into the deep kiss. His hand slid up the small of her back, pulling her down with a hint of pressure. When Winter planted a hand firmly on their featherbed to keep herself up, Qrow whined quietly from his throat. “We’re running out of food, the weather is clear enough to go the market.”

“You can send something else for that.” Qrow tried, there were many servants in the Nikos’ care that were happy to help them, but Winter was already away from him, pulling a wrap from their wardrobe.

“I’m getting out of that habit.” She reminded, reaching for a brush to pull her hair up off her shoulders with. “And I haven’t gone in a few days. I want to.”

Qrow sighed but didn’t otherwise protest as she made herself her version of presentable. He couldn’t ever understand, the things she was determined to hold onto from her home. The women he grew up with certainly didn’t have many differences between private appearances and public ones. The women in the city did seem to have a certain style, but not one Winter mimicked. She kept her hair off her neck, kept her skirt past her knees, and kept her shoulders under a shawl.

He hadn’t argued, when they were alone she seemed a different person. Open, and passionate, every once in a while even playful. He could listen to her for hours, though she said awfully quiet when another soul was around. Qrow thought that was why she sent Nadine away, at first with a boarding pass that ended in Atlas, but Qrow had seen her walking the streets with a few other girls a few days after.

When he told Winter, she only said it was Nadine’s choice. Qrow had someone make sure she was taken care of, she had been a comfort to Winter, even if his wife wouldn’t openly admit her affection.

Still, he could tell what affection she did show was sacred. Winter trusted him, actively wanted to be with him. No matter how selfish it was, Qrow would do almost anything to keep it the same.

For now, after admittedly days together, Winter was content with leaving him alone.

Qrow sprawled out in their bed, managing to fall back into sleep at least for a short time. When he awoke Winter was still gone, the clouds still covered the sky but not as angry as before. He stretched, feeling the pull in his legs and shoulders, and rolled from their bed.

Qrow made it to look out from the balcony to the sea, before sighing when he heard the low hum of Raven’s portal. It wasn’t uncommon she would drop in, make sure he wasn’t completely at peace. He had tried to ignore the tug at his aura a few days past, she had to be in the city, it seems now she’s made herself known.

“What do you want?”

He heard Raven scoff behind him, and the creak of the chair she slumped down in. “Just checking in, is that terrible? I always hear marriage can change men.”

Qrow grunted as he turned to face her, leaning back against the balcony doorway. He had felt her arrive before, but pushed that aside like all his other worries. Now the issue was sitting at dining table. Raven shrugged at him, reaching for the dish of seafood and cracking it open.  

“And you know I’m weak for a wet meal from-”

“How is Vernal?” Qrow cocked his head to the side as the grin left Raven’s face. He let one of his own slide in its stead, it wasn’t often he could catch her off guard.

Raven clicked her tongue, setting down the empty shell carefully. “She’s well.”

“Good.”

“That’s not why I came here.”

“I figured.” Qrow scoffed, glancing towards the other room. Winter wouldn’t return for a while, for once he was thankful. With how comfortable she been getting, Winter wouldn’t let anyone waltz in her home without an explanation. “Took you awhile to check on me.”

“Well, I had to hear from some messenger from Wan’s camp that you rode in with your dying wife in your arms and begged for help.” She scoffed, ready to get to business after his slight. “Not that I blame you for not telling me yourself. I’m guessing Schnee’s not dead though?”

Qrow crossed his arms, leaning against a pillar that led to the balcony. “She’s not.”

“Good. And you’re...sharing a bed now?” Raven raised a brow, following Qrow’s gaze to the bedroom.

Qrow shrugged, avoiding her eyes. “Most of the time.”

“Hm, wow,” she nodded, all condescension leaving her tone in the next sentence. “Was it worth killing our own?”

“Our own?” Qrow had been waiting for that accusation practically since Winter looked ill. He had felt the same anger as he did now since then as well. “Since when was Dove Oro one of us?”

Raven was quick to match his tone, moving from the chair to stand face to face with her brother. “Since when was Winter Schnee?”

“You told me to protect her, I did.”

“I meant to keep her alive. Not let anyone scar her too bad.”

“And I did.”

“By killing tribesman!”

“They poisoned her.”

Raven shook her head, almost close to laughing from frustration. “A cowards way, but she looks fine to me.” Qrow rolled his eyes, turning away back to the balcony. “Oh, what you want me to say? ‘Good job’? ‘This doesn’t make any problems for me at all’?”

“Raven-”

“No, absolutely not.” She scoffed. “We are not twelve, this is not you panicking and running away, I can’t excuse this.”

“You don’t have to.” Qrow threw out an arm. “She’s my wife, I’m following my vow.”

“Everyone knows that was a load of shit from the start, don’t pretend with me that-” Raven stopped herself when Qrow glanced towards the bedroom again. She sighed with a roll of her eyes. “Gods, you fall in love with any woman you’re alone with for ten minutes.”

“It took more than ten minutes.”

“Ha,” Raven spat, turning to pace once over the length of his balcony. She crossed her arm close over her chest, fingers drumming against her sleeves. “Other Tribes are not going to forget this.”

“Oros we’re dying out, I did you a favor.” Qrow did not flinch at his sister’s sharp glare, whatever trouble she’s already dealt with apparently didn’t let her put faith in his words. “You didn’t see their camp, they barely had any food, or people, or supplies. Just a bitter old woman. You would’ve wiped them out as soon as you heard anyway.”

“You didn’t do for me, though, did you? Or because they were dying, and you needed to cut off a weak link. You did it for some Schnee.” She nearly laughed, but the fury around the edge of her tone was something he was familiar with.

“She’s my wife.”

“No one cares!”

“So letting Dove Oro kill her was the right thing?”

“It doesn’t matter now.” Raven pounded a fist against the stone wall of the balcony, letting out a heavy breath. “Oro’s nephew actually seems to have given a shit about her and came to me wanting justice.”

“Bullshit.” Qrow scoffed, crossing his arms to lean back on the barrier. “You of all people can tell him to go to hell.”

“Along with the rest of his men, it will be more complicated than that.” She sighed, and rested her elbows on the wall to look out to sea. Qrow would be lying if he did not feel her dread. They stop fighting with Atlas just to turn on each other once again. Feuds have always been there, Winter is just a push others need to see Branwens fall. “And I’m assuming you’re not going to let me give her to them.” She nodded back to the bedroom.

“No.” The answer came more quickly to Qrow than anything else ever had, it felt like his chest had filled with iron at the thought. He expected maybe an argument from Raven, how he should remember his own loyalties. But she only sighed, following ships in the harbor below them.

“Then you and I are doing this the hard way.”

“If I have to rip through some whining descendant of Dove Oro, I will.” It wasn’t like he hadn’t done worse for less before.

“This is not the time for romantic declarations.” Raven corrected him, killing part the familiar confidence with battle that had rooted itself in Qrow’s chest. “Father’s not exactly pleased about this either.”

He scoffed. “When he comes south of Lake Matsu for the first time in twenty years, then I’ll be worried.”

“Fine.” She held up her hand in front of her, Raven wasn’t one to put herself between their spats. They both learned their lesson early on that. “Vernal is on her way to Broon's. She can keep them busy, but you will have to end this one way or another.”

Qrow sighed, nodding as he faced anywhere but her. “Have him meet with us and I can challenge him. Then you don't have to get involved.” This wasn’t a menial task she felt above, and it was time he stopped ignoring consequences of his own making.

“If that's how to want do it.” Raven said, looking between the sea and back to her brother before starting back inside. "Qrow," She paused in the opening, voice quiet enough Qrow had to focus in order to hear her. “Don’t think me unhappy that you love her.” Qrow nearly rolled his eyes before he saw the gravity in her features. “But please be rational about this.”

He sighed, glancing back to the city, where Winter strolled without a worry throughout the streets. “This isn't really about her.”

“No,” Raven answered, Qrow heard her tapping her fingers against the stone pillar of the doorway. “But they’ll use her as an excuse any time they can to turn against us. They’ve already begun.”

“We’ll handle Arctos, and stay out of the way. No one can rebel over anything after-“

“And you plan on staying here forever? Bending the will of Nikkos?” She scoffed, shaking her head.

Qrow held up a hand. “It’s not for that.”

“You can say that - you should say it, to anyone else. But I still know you, little brother. Keep dreaming of this world that doesn’t exist and you’ll find yourself-”

“We’ll deal with Arctos.” He sighed, running his hands from his face into his hair. Raven raised a brow, Qrow stiffened and told her what she came to hear. “I’m still by your side.”

There didn’t need to be anything else said between them. Handling each other’s messes has always been their way of an apology, or keeping their ties strong. Qrow handles the dirtier details of leading Raven doesn’t want to lower herself to, and she does the best she can to keep his lapses in loyalty quiet. Doesn’t mean she’ll deal with open rebellion so he can stay happy on the beach.

“Good.” Raven straightened her back, letting out a slow breath through her nose. “Keep your head clear, brother. Whatever that requires.”

* * *

Smells of roasting fish reminded Winter of home.

Cooked salmon was a common dish, fisherman would bring in tons to all the ports all over Solitas. Salmon, cod, mussels, or even eel in the wealthier and more daring homes.  Walk down any market and fish were practically thrown at Winter and her family, looking for some fortune that would come from having the best tasting dish.

The markets of Argos had similar product, but the feeling was completely foreign. Everyone that walked by was treated well in order to make a sale. The market had people shouting their goods, not just fish or clams, but fruit, decorative shells, clothing, salt and spices, jewelry, gems and pearls and other claimed treasures were traded and sold. The whole thing was over a mile, compacted in a long stone walkway, twisting across the shore and into the mountain up to Argo’s capital streets. Winter was thankful she didn’t just send a servant out, it was fascinating just to watch, and it’s been so long since she was around strangers that neither could recognize her or cared to try.

Nearer to the shoreline there were busy ports, which turned into public beaches. Children screamed and splashed as others lounged on the sand. An open theater was carved into the cliffside, the beach served as seating. Peplum were worn by wealthier women, others more simpler tunics or skirts.

Winter followed the market streets with no real purpose. She kept her thin shawl loosely over her shoulders and Shattered Ice hidden at her hip. Sometimes she’d pick out a piece of fruit offered, some fish she could persuade someone to cook for them, even a simple necklace she’d probably loose as soon as she put it down.

The booths of sellers thinned and the street became mostly foot traffic. She was about to turn back when a voice caught her ear from around the corner. A smooth male’s, simple strumming as he sang on the ground, a ratty cap upside down in front of him.

“ _The Atlesian’s Wife was as cold as they come, though her kisses were warmer than spring._

_But The Atlesian’s blade, was icy cold steel, and its kiss was a terrible thing._

_The Atlesian’s Wife would sing in the street, in a voice that as sweet as a peach,_

_But the Atlesian’s blade had a song of its own, and a bite sharp and cold as a leech.”_

Winter had stopped by his place on the ground, hands folded as she listened to the smooth words. Others glanced their way, but the man took notice of her and sang slightly louder, as if it were a personal performance.

_“As he lay on the ground, with darkness around, the taste of blood on his tongue,_

_His brother knelt by him and prayed him a prayer, but he smiled, and he laughed, and he sung,_

_“Brothers, oh brothers, my days here are done, the Atlesian’s taken my life,_

_But what does it matter, for all things must die, and I’ve tasted the Atlesian’s Wife!”_

The singer ended with a triumphant laugh, bowing his head. Winter stifled her own distaste at the ending, fishing out a coin for the man for his voice alone.

“Thank you, very much ma’am.” He dipped his chin, taking another small bow from his seat.

Winter nodded, glancing at the shoppers that weaved around them. “Where did you learn a song like that?”

“War song, Miss.” The beggar answered politely, following her gaze carefully as if he had done something wrong, all suave lost compared to only seconds ago. “Some Branwen made it up, I heard. While everyone was fightin’ the Atlesians up north. Just something that rallied the boys, usually. No harm meant.”

She hummed, tossing a few more coins to his hat before starting back to the house without another word. The singer was just a man, she didn’t feel any need to have him punished as he would be in Atlas for such disrespect, not that she exercised that power anyway. Many tribesman she’s met have dispelled the savage imagery her kingdom shows its people, but the horrors that were true did not go unnoticed. A celebratory song about dying satisfied after bedding the enemy’s wife left her, justifiably, with a horrid taste in her mouth.

Her immediate need to have a word with her husband faded on the long walk, as did her disgust. She supposed it wasn’t for sure it was him, Branwen was a general name for anyone in his Tribe. Most townspeople would call any bandit a Branwen, there was no difference between the Tribes in their eyes. Winter debated even mentioning it as she walked home. She could still hear the seagulls from inside, the waves echoing through the open home.

Winter nearly dropped her things when she laid eyes on Raven Branwen, lounging at her table.

She clenched her jaw, and steeled her nerves. Winter was just surprised, she was not to be scared of this woman, no matter what trouble she brought. Winter set her things aside, keeping Shattered Ice at her hip and stared at the Chief. “What?”

Raven rolled her eyes. “I guess you are a bit like my brother, then.” Winter bit back a scoff, eyes darting around in search for Qrow, Raven continued. “You’ve been the center of most of my troubles recently.”

“It is common for a leader of an entire people to face controversy.”

“If I had any idea that you would have even an ounce of influence, I would’ve found a different way to run out your family.”

“Killing.” Winter finished for her, letting whoever that meant to be up to Raven. “Thankfully, we found a path to peace, and can’t go back. Especially now that you have your own...troubles.”

“You do sound like him.” Raven shook her head, a fascinated smile on her face. “A lot less snide and a lot more arrogant, but still. Has he inflicted his sulking onto you, too?”

Raven kept her ever present smirk across her face, Winter frowned just the same. The Chieftain rolled her eyes.

“All this time, and you don’t know our worst kept secret?” Raven sighed, losing her smugness before standing. Winter backed up a step, Raven brushed past her to pace the room. Winter crossed her arms, losing patience but curious enough to let her do as she pleased. This was still Qrow’s sister, no matter her deeds, he had affection for her. “I do not need tension between us now. If my brother. wants to be in denial, then I will not be the one to betray him.”

Winter sighed, and opened her mouth before closing it quickly. Perhaps it was better to let the subject drop. Qrow was private, whatever dreams plagued him Winter kept silent about, and the only glimpses she got into his past were small moments from childhood. She realized there was a lot she didn’t know, but Qrow never pushed her about home, so she did not wish to pry either.

Still, she did not miss that something was hanging over him. They had blissful weeks together, without interference to come to know each other, any horror in the past forgotten. But he held guilt, even if she didn’t mention it, no matter how much she ached to help it.

Raven was still watching her, keeping silent for once, and Winter was greatful. The Chief stood, and without a word made her exit. Winter followed her with her eyes to Qrow’s shape form in the doorway, Harbinger at his back and solemness over his face.

“I didn’t think she’d corner you.” He sighed, leaning against the post.

“That’s not what I’m worried about, what trouble are we in?” Damn his secrets, Winter distracted herself with the task at hand.

Her husband averted his eyes, hand going to rub the back of his neck. “What happened Oro’s. People don’t like I chose you over her.”

Winter gritted her teeth. “That you chose your wife?”

“They don’t know it’s real, or at least now it is. They don't care about that.” He shook his head. “I love you, Winter. That doesn’t mean everyone else sees you as one of us. And it’s not even really about that. Arctos Broon, some nobody, he’s making threats and using you as excuse to validate his claim. Raven and I are handling it.”

Winter crossed her arms over her chest. “So you’re going to face an entire Tribe alone?”

“I’m going to challenge one man. The old way, and if he doesn’t accept, then there’s no problem.” Qrow shrugged, as if the solution should be obvious.

Winter’s frown deepened. “You’re going to kill him, and everything will go away?”

“You act as if I won’t be able to do it.”

“You act as if you want to.”

“I have to.” Qrow lost the trace of cockiness in his tone, Winter nearly flinched. Her husband was soft around her, weeks of no worries left her forgetful of his responsibilities. Still loyal to his sister, Winter would be a fool to act as if she wouldn’t do something similar, to fix her own mistake at her father’s demand.  

Qrow sighed heavily, and turned to walk back to his sister. She knew he couldn’t leave Raven with this mess alone, but Winter refused to let him go thinking she wouldn’t follow him.

“Tell me when we’re moving.”

“No.” Qrow’s tone was harder than she’d ever heard it, Winter stopped in her tracks. He looked down to the stone, eyes flooded with guilt. “I can’t let you be in danger again because of my mistakes.”

He turned again to walk away from her, ready to face an enemy alone as if she wouldn’t do the same for him. Winter steeled her stomach from the hurt that burned. “Any conflict you have will be my own, and any trial we come by will be conquered together.” Qrow stopped at the words, Winter swallowed thickly at the chills she saw pricking at his neck. Her words would not shake, he needed to believe her. “We will show the world our strength and share each other’s.”

The silence hung heavy between them, Qrow frozen in place and Winter clenching her fists. Thunder rumbled distantly from outside their home, seemingly echoing off the walls.

“I didn’t know the words when we married.” She admitted, softer now that she had his attention. “I know this vow isn’t something you take likely, and you’ve followed it from the moment we were bonded together. Please, let me do the same. All of this responsibility and shame you’ve carried alone, but you don’t have to anymore. I’m your wife,” Winter cleared the tightness from her throat, stepping forward to grab his hand. “This fight is both of our’s. Qrow, please, share my strength.”

She heard him let out a shaky breath, hand wrapping around her’s as he faced Winter. He kept his eyes away from her own, taking her hand in both of his. Winter felt her heart pound as he seemed to ponder what she said, or perhaps think of a different way to make her stay. Finally, he spoke softly. “You didn’t ask for any of this.”

Winter shook her head, bringing her other hand to intertwine with his. “Nor did you, but we’re here now. And I’m not running away.”

“Winter…” He sighed, eyes sinking back to the ground.

She felt her chest tighten, hating his hesitation. They were still learning each other, she knew there were some things they just couldn’t share. Some things the other would never understand, but he couldn’t dance around her forever. Whatever was plaguing him over these blissful weeks, whatever was in the background of his mind. “Please tell me. If we’re doing this, I need to know.”

Qrow huffed out a small laugh, shaking his head. “It’s not very simple.” Winter raised a brow, Qrow sighed once again and glanced over his shoulder. She swallowed, but waited, and let him lead her back to their room.

Wind blew in from the balcony as Winter sat on their bed, watching him pace the length of the room. She knew he was either formulating his words, or debating saying them at all. Raven was surprised Winter didn’t already know, so she kept her patience. She was familiar with the compromising feeling of saying something for the first time, something that most people already knew about you.

“My father says he always knew what my name would be.” He started quietly.

Winter raised a brow but didn’t question him. Another tribal tradition. Planning a name ahead of time for your child is taboo, even frowned upon. More common to let them grow into something that fit them. Winter normally scoffed at the trend, but felt her heart ache at the small confession. Crow wasn’t a pleasant symbol anywhere in the world.

“Before I was born, even. Bad things have always happened around me. Twins aren’t common, dangerous to carry. It wasn’t unexpected, but I crippled my mother.” Qrow shoved his thumbs in his pockets, but Winter saw no trembling.

He said the words quickly, but not with any foreseeable sadness. Something like this hanging over anyone’s head would become familiar after so long. Especially if reminded of throughout life. Winter met his eyes and remembered the unyielding shame she felt from him on their wedding night. The small shows of disrespect thrown at him and the submission were coming together.

“That’s beyond a child’s control, Qrow.”

“Fault doesn’t depend on control, or intention.” Winter shook her head at his rehearsed words, she had many ideas in her mind about who would make him believe that. He waved a hand. “There was more than that. Storms broke defenses, food rotted in days, sicknesses spread, everywhere I went. My entire life, bad things happen around me. My semblance took to the one constant I had and made it so I could never escape what I was. And I could never stop it, even now. Always, anyone could be hurt because of me. In one way or another, it happens.”

“Qrow,” Winter didn’t want to deny his story, brush off everything he felt as if he were a child, as she had done to her so many times. Yet, a child who convinced himself he was the cause of so much pain that it took form in his soul was more believable to her than someone born to inflict misery.

“I know what I am, Winter, I’ve always known I can’t change that.”

“You’re the most admirable man I’ve met in my life.”  

Qrow stopped as if he hit a wall, she saw his eyes dart over to her as if expecting a joke to reveal itself. He was expecting negativity, she knew it. For her to turn on him, see him for a burden or at the very least lose trust. Winter didn't retract her words, she believed them. He stood by his vow, he protected her when he could, he regretting losing his people, and did everything to make up for his mistakes.

“You don't know everything I’ve done. Not my semblance, what I’ve done for my family.”

“Brother,” Raven voice had both their heads swerving. Qrow’s lips turned to a frown, Winter only sighed. Raven nodded away from the room. “We don’t have much time.”

“This changes nothing.” Winter ignored Raven’s sour look, she made her exit immediately after. Winter stood before Qrow could say a word, pressing her lips to his. She felt his shoulders relax, her hand touched his cheek. “You’ve done nothing to harm me. I love you, and this changes nothing.”

Qrow stayed still, close enough for his breath to brush her lips. “I can’t have you getting hurt because of me.”

“It will never be because of you.” Winster assured, touching his cheek lightly. “You need to trust me now, to hold my own.”

“I do.” His promise came quickly, squeezing a hand around her’s.

“Good,” she nodded, turning back towards their dining room as Raven’s portal sounded with a peculiar pitch. “We can speak more about this later. I promise, this changes nothing.”

Qrow accepted her promise, following to the other room. Winter meant what she said, every word of it, but the feeling of dread cast over their group only gave her doubts they would speak alone together again anytime soon.

* * *

Qrow stifled his pride when Winter didn’t stumble coming from Raven’s portal.

His sister claims to not notice any difference between her semblance and walking through a door, except how to open it. Anyone else with any sense would say the portal squeezed every piece of yourself into almost nothing before blowing it back up again on the other side. Blinding black and red swirls cloud all vision and if you’re not used to it, stay as spots in your eyes afterward.

Perhaps a cloudy vision would make the poor town Arctos and a few of his frontmen inhabited look better, Qrow surmised as they met Vernal near the gates. Most houses were shut, boarded up, or darkened to give off the appearance of no inhabitants. A charred mass of wood stood in the center, whatever temple or hall stood there before had been burned down.

“When was the last time you put Harbinger’s scythe to use?” Raven asked from his side, nodding to the village.

Qrow breathed out through his nose. “Looks like any Grimm are long gone.”

Raven hummed doubtfully, tapping Magpie’s hilt, and brushed past him. Qrow absently touched Harbinger at his back before turning to Winter. She blinked whatever thought away from her mind and followed him closely into the town.

“We can still find a way out.” He whispered, not daring to look directly to Winter. A low whistle sounded from above them, more echoing it from the rooftops still stable enough to hold Broon’s men. A signal for their arrival.

Qrow heard Winter sigh through her nose, keeping her eyes ahead of them. “It is apparently too late for that now.”

The whistling continued, they reached one of the only standing, shoddy buildings still left in town. Qrow rolled his eyes as a man with a closely shaved head seemed to take the lead in the song, shifting the song to a familiar tune. Arctos grinned widely and spread out his arms as Qrow approached, as if it were all a joke while greeting an old friend. He swung a bottle around like a conductor of an orchestra as he sang. “ _A reaper through and through...Regret the day-”_

“Thank you.” Raven said over the singing to bring the man to a stop. Qrow relaxed as she took her usual, confident tone when addressing another tribesman. Raven can somehow sound completely disinterested in a situation, and yet still keep tight control over it. With how drunk Arctos apparently was, Qrow could suspect her disinterest was genuine. Whatever worries she had over who would win was gone. “You’ve asked for justice, and I’ve delivered. Challenge each other so this matter can be settled and we can return home.”

“Why so fast?” Arctos laughed. A taller woman appeared at his side, holding out a sword in its sheath. “I haven’t even gotten a look at this bitch.” He pointed to Winter at Qrow’s side, swaying as his weight shifted. Both of them narrowed their eyes, Qrow stifled the fire that sparked in chest. “My problem’s with her.”

“Schnee’s never passed Trial, she can’t be challenged.” Raven countered, an old rule that rarely applied when emotions were high. Arctos spat at her feet, just missing her boots. The commanding tone turned into a deadly one. “Do that again, I’ve never seen a man without a head try to carry out a challenge.”

The woman beside Arctos cocked her well-worn shotgun, Qrow saw Winter reach for her saber out of the corner of his eye. “I killed Oro, your problem is with me.”

The lesser Chief stiffened, drawing a thin sword from it’s sheath and swung it wildly as he spoke. “Then, I guess we shouldn’t wait any longer?” Arctos belched, Qrow cast a glance to Winter and was pleased with her mirrored annoyance. “I’m tired of waiting for what I’m owed.’

“You haven’t seen Dove Oro in years, she was leading a dying people.” Qrow turned back to Arctos. “If you think you’re owed anything-” The rest of the world dimmed as the words died in his throat. His aura shattered around him, letting cold, aches, and a new sharp pain take root in his stomach. Muscles froze to be face to face with the leader. The hand that was halfway to Harbinger twitched in its place, blood dripping as his stomach throbbed around the sword thrust through it.

Time slowed to a halt. His hearing failed to decipher the shouting that exploded around him, focusing on the needles spreading across his skin. Arctos grew a grin. Qrow saw his expression tighten, dropping his drunken act.

Raven sprang from her place, dodging a bullet from Arctos Second’s gun and countering with a swipe from what must have been an Earth blade. Qrow heard the rumbling of rocks encasing the woman. Raven ripped Arctos off of Qrow with the sword coming with him. New waves of pain shot through his body. Wounded while your aura was down always quickly took its toll.

Winter’s hand wrapped around his arm, failing to keep him upright before Qrow even realized he was falling forward. Adrenaline pumped uselessly through his veins. His mind struggled to keep up, heartbeat roaring in his ears. More chaos erupted around them. Red spread under him as his knees hit the ground. Needles spread throughout his skin that pushed away the feeling of Winter trying to drag him back up, then across the dirt, to any kind of cover. Her shouts and the sharp sound of her glyphs around them barely reached his ears.

Others fell around him, he could see that much. Winter kept a hand on his shoulder as much as she could, his lungs struggled to keep up with a panicking heart. Head pounding he lifted his eyes to catch smoke, and almost laughed through the spots in his vision. Typical panic response for any bandit, burn it and have everyone scatter. The bright, brilliant white of his wife’s glyphs stood out in the forming smoke, double bladed saber pushing back anyone coming near. A shaky hand wrapped around Harbinger at his back, though his vision went to spots as he tried to move in any significant way. The barrel of his shotgun already pointed out, he pulled the trigger blindly, hoping maybe he’d get lucky. The heat from the barrel burned his back, but Qrow hardly noticed.

Time escaped him as black seeped into his sight, a clang of a sword or a shattering glyph reaching his ears every now and then, the smoke seeping into his chest burning and above all, the void in his middle. The high pitch of a familiar portal broke through the fog, Winter’s yell as she was ripped away. Raven’s sword clashed against another’s, the red fog disappearing as she forced the other back. Blood cand from somewhere above him. Qrow was again shoved from his spot, hearing the ringing again but resoundly not his sister was the one dragging him through it.

What smoke was in his eyes was blinked away, the piercing of swords left his hearing as his surroundings became cooler, softer lighting, warm blood spreading across the wood floor below him. More distinct shouts sounded around him, different pitches with varying degrees of a familiarity. Both strong and soft hands wrapped around his arms, dragging again.

With exhaustion settling in as the blurry feeling roaring through his body, they settled him again, this time in something softer. A still-panicked side of him urged his head up, the need to know creeping on the overwhelming need to sleep. Not since staying awake for four days during a Trial had he wanted this badly to let go. Every attempt at looking up was met with being shoved back down. With a cup of smooth potent being shoved at his lips, Qrow laid back and gave in.

* * *

Winter gasped when the shrinking feeling was gone as soon as it came, the smoke clearing out for a biting wind against her skin. She hit the soft ground with a poof, white snow becoming stained from the blood across her arms sinking in.

A high pitch noise sounded from behind her, Winter let out a “No!” before scrambling to see Raven’s portal swirling closed behind her, leaving only a view snow covered trees at the edge of a valley, and tracks that led behind her. And a severed hand that’s owner did not make it to follow Winter to this tundra.

Winter felt her chest seize as she sobbed a breath inward, shock of what she saw and where she was now  betraying her better instincts. Raven had been swarmed, but she saw Vernal coming for her. Winter had just wanted to keep Qrow protected, the seemingly endless attacks from only thirty men turned her into a protective animal, until she was ripped away from him and hurled through the void to this place.

The wind was bitter cold, but it took a few moments to even feel it through her shock. With a shiver she whipped her head around, seeing only a small clearing outside of a snow covered forest, light snow blowing in the breeze. Raven couldn’t have sent her to a more different place than the burning town.

Gripping Shattered Ice, Winter’s eyes followed the fresh tracks that led under where she fell. She flinched foolishly at the sight of Avani Branwen, bunded warmly in a patchwork of furs, a bow in one hand and another supporting the dead buck that was slung over his shoulder.

He sighed loudly, red eyes looking past Winter as if he were about to scold his children from across the continent. Avani’s graying hair blew across his face, he looked back down at Winter.

She waited for him to ask, or perhaps turn and continue on his way, but he just waited patiently. Watched her shiver at the sudden cold around her, grip at her thin sleeves as the fear she felt so intensely only a moment ago turned to anger, at this man, at being tricked, at the ambush, and at being shoved away from the fight, to not knowing if what she did to protect her husband meant anything at all.

Winter felt the tears burn in her eyes, but did not dare to shed them. She swallowed the knot in her throat and did not flinch at how raw her own voice sounded. “Your son could be dead.”

The retired Chief only blinked, adjusting the stag over his shoulder. “Many have tried. Ends up the other way around.”

“I don’t know…” Winter shook her head, Avani looked back to the way he was going. A black hound was bounding up the hill towards the forest. It barked at them. He turned back. 

“When your children are grown, you will know what they can endure, and what they cannot.” He sighed, turning to start back up the hill, to where the forest started again. “Let’s see what you can endure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I can't ever give any character a break in anything, ever. 
> 
> Fun things about this chapter because I lack subtly:  
> 1\. Arctos is based on Ursus arctos  
> 2\. The Altesian's Wife is a modified Dornishman's Wife from Game of Thrones, because I loved it in that world and think it fits very well into this one  
> 3\. Raven's sword is called Magpie. Old nursery rhymes claim that seeing one will bring sorrow (or bad luck, based on where you're from ;) )  
> Thanks so much for reading and patience with these crazy updates!! :D Comments as always are loved and appreciated!


	7. Nothing Gained, Truth be Told

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can tell I have a midterm tomorrow morning because I finished this chapter instead of studying ;)  
> Again, sorry for the wait. Prepare for angst :)

Qrow was alone more often that not, in his dreams and when he scarcely woke.

After the first time, when the opiate they gave them wasn’t strong enough to keep out the pain from searing his wound closed and Taiyang had to keep him place for some village doctor to put him down again, it was peaceful. The room was kept dim, or he seemed to always wake when it was. Sun sometimes streamed through half-covered windows and quickly sent him back to sleep, other, darker times let him know he was in a bedroom, log walls and floors, sparsely furnished. The only door was kept closed.

Feeling in every sense was vague, in body and thought. Most of the time only one pressing need was in his mind every time he resurfaced from a foggy sleep - Water. Decentralized pain, and shivers were also common. Every time kept him guessing, and hoping if any of them could be lessened in the short time of him being conscious.

Finally, he woke to a glass of life saving water waiting at the bedside table, an animalistic sense took over ignoring pain, as Qrow nearly dove off the bed for it. The cold spread down his chin, stinging small cuts he hadn’t realized were there.

Beyond the glass, a low pair of lilac eyes were staring at him, peeking from the doorway. Slowly the gears clicked in his mind - Qrow knew Yang, despite seeing her rarely. He remembered the few moments after she was born that he had with her, when Raven seemed colder than ever and shoved her daughter into his arms. Before Raven dropped her off in Vale for good. He treasured them. Not that anyone else knew.

She seemed taller, as his bleary eyes tried to focus. She looked behind her as if she would get caught for standing in the wrong spot, sending wild locks of blonde hair sprawling over her shoulders.

“Raven,” he choked out, the girl stepping back as if to run. Qrow held out a hand in peace, ring on his first finger catching the light. Other ideas raced in his mind as his memory seeped back into focus - mostly longing to ask for Winter, but kept things simple. “Get your mother.”

He turned back over in bed before making sure his plea was understood. Dulled pain ripped from his stomach up to his shoulders, Qrow let out a pitiful groan. He hoped she knew what he said, his niece had to understand. She turned four a few months past, his sluggish brain provided.

Light steps sounded from the room, a voice whispering. “Oh, honey,” Qrow rolled his head to see the back end of a white, flowing dress cloak push Yang back out of the room. “He doesn’t mean me.” He heard her say, steps leaving down a hall.

A creak of wood and fingers drumming against the wall pulled him from the dozing Qrow didn’t realize he fell into. Raven leaned against his doorway, arms over her chest. Her hair was in a rare tie away from her neck, showing heavy bandaging over her right shoulder and down her arm. Another on her jaw, peeking out from loose trousers were more on her left calf. “Qrow,” she greeted.

“Winter.” It was a selfish demand - he realized after his sister rolled her eyes - to want to know about her first. He knew from the moment he first woke alone, she was never here with him at all, but the ache of longing in his chest drove him to ask anyway.

“You’re welcome.” Raven offered instead, walking across the room with bare feet to pull up a stool to the foot of his bed. The scrape of legs against the wood floor seemed to reach directly to Qrow’s brain. He groaned, she continued on. “You know this makes the second time you’ve run from the enemy in the past year.”  

Qrow sighed heavily, rolling his head to face the ceiling. “You could’ve left me.”

Raven raised a brow. “I didn’t want my brother to be killed by Arctos Broon because he spent too much time fucking his wife instead of keeping sharp.”

“I don’t think my physique was the cause of what went wrong. Where is Winter?”

Raven suppressed a bristle at the repeated demand, and focused instead on carefully laying her bandaged leg over the other. “Safe enough.”

“Raven.”

“With Father, I didn’t mean to.” She added quickly, Qrow felt the dread turn in his stomach anyway. “First thought, you know how it is.”

Qrow sputtered. “He’s your first thought when it comes to safety?”

“Vernal was already next to me. And you were, well,” 

“Raven.” 

“I pushed her through but more came after.” She snapped. “Would you rather me let them chase after her and then toss you in? Bloody and stupid at Da’s feet?”

Qrow kept silent for a long moment, Raven seemed satisfied to end the debate. About to stand from her stool, Qrow’s quiet words halted her. “You’ve had time to bring her here.”

“You need someone to hold your hand at all times now?” Raven scoffed, Qrow let his look speak for him. Raven sighed, a hand drifting to run over the bandages on her shoulder. “There’s a lot you don’t know. She is a distraction we don’t need right now.”

Qrow felt his anger burn in his chest, harsher than the wound in his stomach, at her hypocrisy. “Your daughter is in the next room.”

“So is Vernal, probably Taiyang. My allies, brother. Not my distractions. I made sure of that years ago.” She shifted in her seat, avoiding his eyes and Yang altogether. “I’m leaving, anyway. You need to decide what you want, without a pretty face right in front of you.”

Qrow scoffed at her, rolling his eyes. “What is that even supposed to mean?”

“Arctos wanted both of us dead to leave a vacuum.” She pulled aside her top and the shoulder, bandaging covering nearly her whole side. “For him to fill, no doubt. He got too close, in my opinion. I won’t let anyone else with any ideas get close again. And you’re slow with Schnee around. You focused on protecting her with Arctos and look where it got you.” She rubbed at her eyes, anger deflating. “Not to mention she’s the reason we’re in this mess in the first place.”

“Who wanted this marriage again?”

“I’m not arguing with you about this. I’m not your enemy here.” Raven sighed, hand reaching to cover her eyes. “Comfort breeds weakness. I was told that when I needed to hear it. I might not be able to stop you if you want to get fat and happy with your wife, but you need to decide if, after everything you’ve done, it’s worth it.”

Qrow let the silence fill the space between them. Any argument he makes will be circled back to his faults, how he needs to choose his loyalties and how he needs to choose his family. Qrow witnessed his sister’s own struggle years ago, and knew she wouldn’t reverse her decision. Even with Yang so close, Raven will pride herself on choosing her Tribe over whatever comfort her daughter offers. To stay ahead of the curve, to stay strong, and in power.

Qrow knew she couldn’t see the differences in their struggles, how unbalanced the two options seemed to him compared to how Raven saw them. She was already at the door when he spoke again. “Will what I decide even have a chance of being what happens?”

Raven stopped, heavy sigh escaping her. She looked between the hall and back to him, tapping lightly on the doorframe. “Just rest. Don’t open your wound.” He didn’t have any other choice but to listen.

* * *

Winter sighed when the slam of a heavy door nearly shook the whole house, but didn’t move from her perch on the window. Over the many days she’s been here, the former Chief of the Branwens was gone from his home more often than not. He left Winter to herself and to her fear, and only heightening the latter whenever he returned.

It was like her first coming to the Tribe all over again, Winter could only think of the worst. Except now instead of fearing for her own safety she feared for Qrow’s as well. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw a sword being drawn right into his side, the shock in his eyes and felt the paralyzing dread in her chest. There wasn’t any comfort in knowing she protected him, she still left him bleeding against a wall while being dragged away.

Raven couldn’t have just left him, Winter told herself over and over again. Qrow was still her brother, and she wouldn’t have bothered sending her away if she didn’t care, even the smallest amount, for him. Winter couldn’t decide whether Raven threw Winter out to get her out of the way, to safety because Qrow told her to, or because Avani Branwen was the last person she’d want to be near and Winter was the reason they were in that mess of a duel in the first place.  

Not that it seemed the man wanted anything to do with Winter, either. He had led her back home, let her warm up from being thrust into a frozen valley, and didn’t offer more than a few words. The stone house only had four rooms. The entrance, a kind of kitchen, and two bedrooms. Winter saw the shaggy looking black hound more than she saw Avani. He didn’t know what happened to Qrow, and he did not act worried about it. With every second Winter felt her anger grow - his relaxed manner was not out of confidence, but apathy.

Winter stayed anyway, thinking Raven might actually bring her back, and running off from the nearest person she could portal to was not wise. A week passed with nothing, another week. Winter’s anxiety snapped with the sound of the door slamming closed as Avani left her alone again. She would not spend one more moment in this house without an answer.

Winter grabbed a cloak, her one pair of boots that will have to do for now. Before exiting, she peeked out the heavy door, seeing the old Chief already halfway up the hill to the forest. Winter wrapped the cloak around her shoulders, pulling the stitched hood over her hair to fight against the biting wind, and pushed out the door.

The house was on the outer edge of a small village. A singular road, homes and buildings randomly placed along it, some farther back than others with no real order to them. Winter trenched through the snow to the nearest one. She ignored the looks from the only six patrons in the pub.

Winter pulled back her hood and walked towards the bar. A very old black cat sat low on the bar, it’s paws tucked under its belly. It blinked at Winter, an old woman with ram horns curling from her forehead cleared her throat from behind the bar. She raised a brow, Winter turned away from the cat. “Which way is the next town from here?”

The Faunus woman scoffed, glanced to a man on the other side of the bar, and turned back from Winter. “How did you get here without passing through it yourself?”

Winter pressed her lips together. “It is a very long story.”

“She’s one of Ave’s girls, I saw them come back from his hunting.” The man spoke up.

“Doesn’t look his type.”

“One of his daughter’s, then.”

“His son’s.” Winter corrected, as if it mattered anymore. She’d say anything to move them along, despite the twist in her chest at the reminder of Qrow’s questionable status. The cat stretched out it’s paws, sinking claws into the wooden bar before retracting them back. “Which way did you say it was?”

The woman hummed, nodding her head to the side. “A week or so through the mountain. Path’s probably blocked by the early snows, though.”

Winter felt her stomach turn. “Will it clear again before spring?”

“Maybe.” She shrugged. “Or there’s a road through the woods. Takes about another weeks time, though.”

“Ya’ don’t want to go that way alone anyway, dear.” The same man spoke again, Winter stopped her eyes from rolling. “The Falkes stray a little too far north and cross your path, they’ll eat a soft girl like you up.”  

The Faunus clicked her tongue, shook her head. “Not if she’s Ave’s.”

“She’s not.” Winter felt her hands tighten to fists.

“Then I wouldn’t tell you to try and go through the forest alone.” The Woman snapped right back to Winter. The cat made a sound similar to a grumble, like they were all disturbing its peace.

Winter let out a breath, quelling her anger. A small turn of nausea stayed in her stomach. “I need to find a way out of here.”

The woman shrugged, and hummed to herself as if she were seriously thinking the issue over. “Swim to Atlas?”

The cat scrambled into a jump when the door slammed shut behind Winter.

* * *

The days felt like years before he could even sit up, and even then the wound in his side sparked with nearly blinding pain. Sleep was still his optimal state, being awake only made him long for a drink, or have anger flare up again, showing itself to anyone who came in the room. Vernal, mostly, dropping soft food and laced drinks to keep him sleeping. Better to heal, Qrow knew, he was still bitter about it. At least his sister’s Second didn’t bother talking to him. She knew his moods almost as well as Raven, but didn’t find them as amusing as his sister did.

Once, she left him a bottle of genuine whiskey, western Vale styled and brewed. As a parting gift, Vernal figured he wasn’t likely to last long without help. It was the best Qrow felt in weeks, despite having to force himself to stumble to the window to avoid ruining the bed with vomit - and old fashioned self preservation. Then the crushing feeling was back. Trapped in a house with the only people left without a grudge against him, and Qrow was alone.

His aura woke him when it returned. The burning in his side was dimmed, exhaustion lessened, but the anger and the apprehension stayed. It was only a step closer for Raven coming back, forcing him to either spit in her face, be marked a traitor and never see Winter again or go along with her plan, and never see Winter again. He didn’t say anything the next time someone visited him.

Taiyang was, as always, confusing to him, whenever he did appear. Usually silent, but when he notices Qrow awake he apparently couldn’t help himself from sharing his proclaimed wisdom.

“You should feel lucky.” He said as a greeting once, seeing past Qrow’s faux sleep. Qrow blinked and scoured at the light streaming into the room. He had suspicions on who removed the heavy curtains.

Tai’s choice of words did not lighten his mood either. “I don’t.”

The other man huffed a laugh, setting a teacup on the bedside table. “I can tell. You survived a longsword through the liver - and by the gods, that did not need to go through any more than it already had -  slept through all the hard parts of closing that up, and had no infection despite your aura being depleted.” Tai threw up a hand to the window, Qrow rolled his eyes. “And yet you’re mad at seeing the sun.”

Qrow sighed long, looking back to the ceiling. Maybe if he didn’t say anything Taiyang would leave.

Yet, the man dragged a stool to be near the bed, but not enough to block the sun coming in. Qrow waited as long as he could, Tai kept staring at him. He sighed, and covered his eyes from the sun. “Raven has forced me to get married, and is now telling me to turn my back on my wife.”

“Loyalty isn’t exactly her golden trait.”

“Loyalty to you isn’t, maybe.”

“Well,” Tai scoffed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Our marriage didn’t exactly work out like your’s.”

Qrow wasn’t buying into his sympathy, even if it was unintentional. “Obviously. Left as soon as she got her piece in with me.”

“That’s not unusual.” Tai didn’t take his bait either, Qrow didn’t mind, he was still too drained for a fight. “But I would think she’d at least wait for you. I think Ruby makes her uncomfortable.”

Qrow sighed, fighting the need to know what he was talking about. He blamed his wound for having such a loose tongue. “Who?”

“Shit,” Tai crossed his arms and let out a breath. “I guess you wouldn’t know.”

“Oh,” Qrow couldn’t help but laugh as his tired mind connected Tai’s shame with his words. “A Xiao Long with a mistress. And I thought you in Vale were so noble.”

“Ruby’s my daughter.” Tai deadpanned.

Qrow frowned.

“Things happen.” Tai shrugged. “But this probably means Raven didn’t mention one other thing.”

* * *

Winter sighed as she gazed out the window, breath fogging the glass. The first real chill she’s felt in months, snow was as far as the eye could see. She lost count how many times she wished Qrow was in the beautiful landscape instead of her present company.

A wave of nausea hit her - the same she felt at the pub - Winter covered her eyes. Ever since she was thrown here, it seemed she felt sick, or exhausted. First it was from shock, then anger, now maybe stress, maybe still anger. Whatever Winter could convince herself of, she would. 

Her stomach flipped again, and Winter slid from the spot on the window. She kept her arms close around her chest to fight the still cold of the house, stopping as she passed Avani’s excuse for a bedroom. The door was open, which to her memory was a first. Winter’s surroundings had shifted to the background of her thoughts amongst the worry over her belly, but this little anomaly caught her eye.

Winter tugged the sleeves of her sweater over her hands. He must have something, anything that could help her. Winter placed her hands over her stomach to quell her onslaught of nausea, now coming from her nerves about intruding on the space. Avani was gone for long every time he left, sometimes for days at a time, yet she was still worried about getting caught in her snooping. To find a map would be useful, to find a bribe for someone to guide her out of the valley would be better. Though, both was always ideal. Her need to get out of this winter isolatation won over her hesitation.

Winter was surprised when the room looked so lived in.

A bed was unmade, books strewn about from large cases that lines the walls. Blankets piled into a circle on the floor made what passed as a dog bed. Papers were strewn across the desk, some letters, some torn out pages from books, others were drawings, pencil sketches.

Winter focused on the sketches, flipping through a stack on the desk that were all landscapes. The mountains, the forest, a few rivers. There had to be a map somewhere, since Avani so obviously has attachment to the land. Winter rolled her eyes at the old man’s distraction, but kept looking, pulling out drawers from the desks.

An envelope topped the drawer, small but overstuffed. Winter took one look at the Lien inside and wasted no time before stuffing it into her shirt, tucked between the side of her chest and under her arm.

Winter turned to the book that was next in the drawer, and flipped it open. A page that was ripped from it fell to the desk. Not another sketch of featureless landscape, this was a portrait. The paper had thick creases, years of being folded and unfolded, pressed while open as well as closed. Winter’s fingers hovered over the woman, what served as her portrait held more detail Winter would expect from such worn paper.

Her eyes were cast downward, almost too small for her face, with a nose that seemed almost too big - crooked from a break, possibly many. With how much detail was put into the other features, from the hairline to the brow, Winter figured the odd proportions were not inaccurate.

She kept looking through the scraps of paper within the book against her better judgement. Curiosity urged her onward. More sketches showed more than just landscapes. The shaggy hound that lived in the house, the village next to the house, weapon designs - some that reminded her of Harbinger, creatures of Grimm. Raven and Qrow, a few times. They were always younger, still children, often looking away, no sketch Winter saw was a real profile. Nothing was anything near a proper portrait Winter had suffered through every year.   

She saw the same woman from the first sketch. Over and over again, different angles, expressions. Winter unfolded another torn out page that seemed to have been crumpled up before being pressed flat back into the book. A sketch of the same woman, holding two bundles in her arms. The babies were faceless, the detail went into their mother’s, showing love. Winter would be lying if she said her eyes were full of anything else.

Winter set it down carefully, closing the book for good and moving it aside. She didn’t know the stories behind them, part of her didn’t want to. Best to leave an old man with his memories.

 In the next drawer she came across a stack of letters tied with a simple string. Winter flipped the stack to be facing up and brought a hand to her mouth. They were addressed to her.

While no real manor or estate was addressed, Winter’s name was clear. The letter on top had neat, sprawling handwriting on the outside. The hand was practiced and perfected, it was a hand she knew well. Klein would always try to look after her, even from across the world.

Winter glanced behind her before untying the stack, the top letter being unopened, but she had no thought to be curious. Her hands were nearly shaking as she unfolded, heart pounding though she couldn’t think why.

_My Dearest Sister,_

Winter felt tears pool in her eyes and her heart pulled in her chest before she could go on any further. Weiss couldn’t have possibly learned to write since she last saw her, especially not with the steady hand that the letter displayed. Winter could see her meeting with their shared friend, Klein diligently scribing whatever the younger Schnee wanted, no doubt risking his position in order to send them in secrecy.

In a rush, Winter flipped through the other envelopes, a sudden need to know who they were from, how many there were. If all this time her sister's been alone, trying to reach out to her the only way she knew how and getting no replies.

She let out a breath in relief, though it was small. They weren’t all from Weiss, it seemed, some had her mother’s hand. The wind blew against the house and Winter flinched, checking the door once more before steeling her nerves. These were her letters, she would not be a mess while claiming what was her’s.

She must have spent hours, pouring over the words over and over again. Weiss wrote sometimes multiple pages of daily affairs, her schooling, new clothes, her singing lesson, what they ate. One of her teachers was dismissed for giving her a book popular among the Faunus. The one time she tried to show their Father her dance she tripped, and was scolded. Mother had bought her a brilliant band of jewels to go in her hair. Anything she thought was important at the moment, she wanted to tell Winter about it. More than once, Weiss mentions things she wished they still did together, from stealing whispers at events or performances, to having simple meals together. Winter felt her heart ache with every word, and twist with anger at everything she’s missing.

Her mother - the few letters there were from her - wrote of menial affairs. How Weiss was starting working on her singing voice, they kept her room the same - just in case, a dust mine had collapsed, her father met with a new partner. As the letters went on, the events were more hollow, less detailed and more rehearsed, in a way Winter couldn’t describe. Maybe it was due to the lack of answers, even her mother had given up hope on her, or figured they were being intercepted anyway and gave whoever was reading false information.

Winter didn’t put it past her mother to do either.

The candle that lit the desk was blown out, Winter scrambled again through the old Chief’s things to find matches. She had read them all, over and over again, but it didn’t diminish any meaning behind the words. Her eyes stung from hours of on and off tears, her chest seemed hollow. Winter barely reacted when Avani cleared his throat from the doorway.

“These are mine.” She ignored how raw her throat fell, and how it showed in her voice. The fury in her stomach snuffed out any shame. She refused to face him.

“Yes. They were intercepted, but unread.” He answered simply, walking to his desk and sliding the sketches over each other. “Apparently you have seen more than what is your’s.”

Winter gritted her teeth. “I don’t expect you to see the difference between me looking at portraits and you stealing what left I have of my family.”

“I don’t.” He said, tapping the stack of illustrations. Winter rolled her eyes.

“As if you’ve ever given a damn about anyone.”

Avani blurted a laugh, Winter blinked at the foreign sound. He didn’t take his eyes from the stack. “I wanted to throw them into the sea when they were born. Let the gods take them and be done with it.” He must have seen her face from the corner of his eye. “If you can tell me otherwise after watching your love suffer for days without rest, alone, and when it’s done be worse off, then I will admit surprise. Even so, I didn’t. My brothers were dead, my wife would be soon, and I was not to be the last Branwen after everything we had done to gain control over Anima.”

If Winter had the sense to just appease the old man, in the moment, she might not have said anything. “Yes, the kingdom of frightened villages and the tribes of murderers who terrorize them. I’m sure you’re proud.”

“I united them, I didn’t change them.” Avani said, shaking his head. “We used to kill for scraps of food, would be chased and cower from villages we now control. I raised my children and am glad I did. My daughter is like her mother, smart enough to keep them in line, along with her own people. When I passed everything to her, she got lucky and attached herself to Vale, then had your excuse for an army as a distraction.” He hummed. “Yet, as soon as your people are pushed out, we turn on each other like dogs. My granddaughter is named Xiao Long, and my son would sooner castrate himself than have a child to inherit anything to spite me. Everything I’ve done for them, is now for nothing.”

Winter must have scoffed louder than she intended to, he finally brought his eyes to her. “Everything I’ve heard that you’ve done has been to gain control. Over your people, your enemies, and your children. No matter what they wanted.”

“Yes, I’m sure your mother and father gave you everything you wanted.” Her stomach turned at his tone, like he was amused at her. “No child wants to dress, and speak, and act like you do in Atlas. They made you, to survive in that realm of the world.”

Winter turned away, arms crossed at her chest, but couldn’t deny the mixed pang of longing and resentment she felt at the words. Countless hours with her mother and teachers in lessons on how to act properly, negotiate, navigate conversation and appear an elegant woman. Proper handwriting, dancing, _walking_. Every horrible thing her father might have done that she’s learned how to dispel. Everything Weiss was probably learning right now, alone. Everything that she was taught in order to survive in a different world, and everything she’s given up in this one.  

“I did the same, as is my duty. I wasn’t kind about it, it wasn’t what my son wanted. My people, and him, have stayed alive because of it. And when Qrow was sixteen and stupid enough to think he could pass as some villager with some girl, I dragged him back and reminded him what he was good for. What life he was suited for. I didn’t let him give up what I gave him, and I certainly never sold him off to be raped by bandits because I started a war I couldn’t finish.”

The crack of her knuckle resonated between them, Winter had to consciously unfurl her fist to avoid breaking the finger wrapped in it. She couldn’t see any lies in his words, she didn’t know him well enough at all to know where to look for them. Winter gritted her teeth, holding back what anger she could for every word that came from his mouth.”Qrow never hurt me.”

”That sort of violence was never his taste.”

“It might not matter now anyway. Or have you forgotten your son might be dead while convincing yourself that somehow you’re not guilty of anything?”

He shrugged off the ill-concealed slight. “Raven likely doesn’t know what to do with you or doesn’t want to spend the time to figure it out. If she intends on me keeping you around, she should have made that clear. Until then, I don’t really care what you do.”

Winter paused, feeling her heart skip. “What?”

“You think I live up here because I want to share this house?”

Winter ignored the condescension, gathering her letters before pushing past him. Avani saw that as good enough for a conversation, he got his piece in and ended up with what he wanted. Winter gathered up the cloak and boots she was given, he could at least give her a chance to not freeze to death. The mountains or forest be damned, she’d find a way back to the Branwens. Find Raven, or at least where she would be, or perhaps the other woman, Vernal. Qrow’s people. She’ll figure something out.

As she reached for the door, the black hound made a whine low in his throat. Winter turned to see Avani standing in the only doorway, dog at his feet. He opened his mouth, but apparently thought better of it, closing the door behind him.

Winter pulled up her hood, checked the envelope of lien still tucked in her shirt, and pushed out into the blowing winds.

* * *

“I didn’t think it like you to hide.”

Qrow scoffed, only a piece of a laugh within it. It wasn’t like Summer Rose to dance around what she meant. He took the mug she handed to him, scolding himself internally when he reached for his flask that wasn’t there.

“I’m healing, not hiding.” He reasoned, likely more to himself than to Summer. She eyed him curiously, Qrow wished they could go back to the silence they had when he stumbled into the kitchen.

He didn’t believe Taiyang when he told Qrow she was here, Qrow didn’t know how Tai would know about Summer at all. They had no connection in his mind, until now. But the Xiao Long swore on his life that it was true - along with many other apologetic things Qrow stopped listening to - and Qrow forced his way down the stairs to see for himself.

Now she sat across from him at a handcrafted wooden table, tapping her fingers against a mug and thinking carefully about what to say. Qrow wished he was surprised how easily he recognized what her looks meant. “Tai said your aura came back two days ago. That you’d be out the door as soon as you could stand.”

“Are you asking me to leave?” For the rest of time, he wouldn’t blame her for that. As was her nature, Summer shook her head immediately. “No, I understand. Your daughters-”

“It’s not that. I thought you would go on your own. To be with her.” She insisted, blowing out a breath. “I don’t know everything that’s going on, only what Tai does. I didn’t think asking would help. Or that you’d want to see me at all. I thought at least you knew I was here, maybe, and you’d ask if you wanted-”

“I thought you might be dead.” Qrow corrected, though regretted his bluntness immediately. He finally started on the Vale styled coffee instead of opening his mouth and making it worse.

Summer stayed quiet, only for a moment. “You avoided what I said.”

Qrow pushed down the need to do so again, instead swallowing thickly. He ran his finger along the rim of his mug. “I wish I could take back the last time I went against my family to be with someone.”

He had ran off, not for the first time, and not away from anything specific. It used to be harder, to internalize everything the Tribe did, what he did with them. Some core part of him always told him what they did was wrong, and he could never shake it off. Qrow had moments when all the guilt he’d massed came to head, and he had to disappear for days, or weeks. Raven was used to him going off on his own. He could return after a time without a word to anyone, forget what he did while gone and shove that weakness back, hidden away where it was supposed to be and he could carry on like everyone else.

Summer caught him just at the end of one of these spells. Making his way back home when a Beowolf crossed his path. Then another, then two more, and then the rest of the pack, and then Summer. It wasn’t in her nature to let a stranger fight for their life alone. If Qrow would ever be honest with himself, he wasn’t fighting that hard anyway - until she threw herself between him and the next wolf in line.

Summer amazed him. A girl no taller than his shoulders, one eye sharp and the other blank and scarred, armed with a half-pike spear - Qrow mistook it for a branch this first time, it was so thin - ripping through Grimm as if it were a morning routine. Any claws that may have hurt her met only rose petals in place of her flesh, she was quite literally untouchable.

Qrow was flat on his ass when she told him to come to the village of Westhaven with her, the last of the wolves dissolving into smoke behind her cloak. Qrow accepted without hesitation, or wisdom. He did the same when she told him to rest for the night, and then the next day to help her and the rest of the villagers with rebuilding a wall. Qrow told himself it was to pay back for housing him for the night.

Summer told him how she was from Mantel, and left when her father passed from a sickness he was struck with while in a dust mine. It was her father who taught her how to fight, she told Qrow. She soon left Mantel and drifted across Anima unnoticed, Qrow knew it was because Branwens could care less about travelers, but didn’t dare say it. If she, or anyone in Westhaven, could tell who he was, they didn’t mention it. Qrow kept it that way, though later he would regret that along with everything else. If one person had known, even been suspicious, he would’ve left like he was supposed to.

But he stayed for the day. A day wouldn’t hurt. Summer told him that she came across the village over a year ago, cut down a few Grimm, was rewarded for it, and stayed. Qrow followed suit, despite what every bit of sense his mind told him. He stayed at the inn the night again, and the next day, and the weeks after that. He came to know the the innkeeper and her son, baker and his wife, what passed for a school for the few children in the village, the bookshop owner, the farmers, even the bored smith that got too interested in Harbinger for Qrow’s liking. And Summer, most of all.

She was kind, to everyone, without reason. It amazed him, at the time. Later she would tell him more of her old home in Mantel, her father. He had always wanted a child, but never found the time. People of Mantel had other things to worry about, keeping food on the table, fires in their hearths, children only added more difficulties to life. Her father found her outside of the mine after working late, a babe alone in the moonlight. He had told her it was a gift from the moon, a reminder that summer would come again, even after the coldest winter.  

Qrow would sooner say that no one in Mantel would work to feed a half blind baby, but didn’t dare to crush her sentiment. Summer followed what she was named for. She busied herself in the town by finding anything she could to help people, someone always gave Qrow something to do to earn his keep. And he was fine with that, the tasks were nothing compared to what his family considered as earning his place. Qrow went out every week with Summer to search for Grimm, run them away from getting too close to Westhaven or taking them out altogether. That was what they were both best at, and even better together.  

Raven came looking for him after seven weeks. Asked him when he was coming home, then told him to, and - not that either of them would repeat it - nearly begged him to. She gave him a warning, and he didn’t see her for another week. Qrow didn’t blame her for going back, telling their father. She wasn’t Chief yet, it wasn’t too long after her mess with the Falkes. And it wasn’t as if she could lie very easily.

On their way back from a hunt, they found Westhaven on fire.

Summer had paused on the crest of the hill over the village, Qrow just missed catching her wrist to stop her from running in. It wasn’t in her nature to leave everyone behind, no matter how much Qrow screamed at her to just that. He felt it in his bones, this fire was not an accident.

Qrow lost sight of her amidst the smoke they ran through, most came from the school, and the bookshop beside it. He didn’t dare look at any of the bodies in the dirt, the village may as well have been abandoned if not for them. The blood roaring in his ears and the sound of his own heart drowned out the fire raging around him. Qrow skidded to halt at the pile of white petals near the town’s centre. An arrow caught the back meat of his arm, shaking him from his fear and pushing him to run again. He didn’t get far before a familiar shock ran through his side, it sent Qrow to the ground.

A rider caught him by the hair, more came after, he didn’t recognize any of them, but they beat him nonetheless. His father came after, trapping his hand under a boot, a finger snapping. The brand blistered against his skin, Avani didn’t waste even a look before tossing it aside, and warned his son never to waste his time like this again.

“I don’t.” Summer answered after what felt like eternity. Qrow looked up to face her back, her gaze rested outside the window of the small cabin. Summer sighed, shoulders lowering, and turned back to him. “I don’t take back any of it.”

Qrow ran a hand down his face. “If you had known what I was, you would have made me leave.”

“I’m not doing so now.” Summer crossed her arms. “And I mean that. I didn’t want anyone to die, of all the gods, I didn’t. But it happened, and I didn’t - don’t blame you. I looked for you, after, but I couldn’t find anything. Yes, I was lost for a while, but it led here. I have Tai, and Yang, and Ruby. I can’t,” she scoffed a growing smile as she looked to her hands. Qrow shifted in his seat. “I can’t even describe what Ruby means to me. All this love I didn’t know I had, and I’m reminded every time I look at her.”

Qrow’s heart sank to his stomach with a similar feeling, though they were picturing someone different.

“I wouldn’t trade that for anything. Even to stay at Westhaven. I have other people who need me now. And so do you.” Her tone forced him to look back up, her silver eye boring holes through him. “I would think, that after everything you’ve been through. Westhaven, or before, or whatever led up to now, you wouldn’t just sit here, and lose it again.”

“I’m not-” Qrow stopped himself, letting out a breath. His side ached. “I’m trying to figure out what to do.”

“Really?” Summer raised a brow. “Because as soon as you could, you drank so much you threw up on my hosta.”

“That wasn’t..” Qrow rubbed the back of his neck. “On purpose.” Summer stayed quiet, her look saying everything it needed to while she finished her mug coffee. “What do you want me to do, abandon my sister? There’s already been one attempt on her life, it’s not gonna be the last.” Though the same could be said about Winter, Summer only shrugged. Qrow sighed, no wonder she got on with Tai, both had way of making people think out loud. “I can’t just walk across a continent, Summer. There’s things I have to do, what I owe to my family.”

“Then do them.” She shrugged again.

Qrow rolled his eyes, throwing out a hand. “Everything in my life tells I don’t deserve anything else, I don’t deserve someone like her.”  

“But you already have her.” Summer actually laughed, Qrow hated how it lightened the pit in his stomach. “I didn’t think I’d be where I am, with Ruby, and everything she’s given me. Every time I look at her, or Yang, or Tai, I feel something I can’t even describe. I love them completely. Maybe I don’t deserve them, I certainly didn’t mean to come into this life, for any of this happen. But it doesn’t matter.”  

Summer hit the edge of her mug on the table, marking her words.

“Whether I deserve them or not, I’m not just gonna turn my back on them. I can make an enemy out of everyone for it, I’ll fight anything that tries to take it away from me. Because they have me now, and it’ll then hurt to leave more than it’ll hurt me to stay.” She smiled, the way that made her goodbeye flash and the other come alive, and made his heart hurt. “You’re not her enemy, Qrow. She’s not your’s either, no matter how hard it is to face it. And you owe it to her, if you love her, to face that.” 

Qrow sighed, feeling his stomach churn as he took in what she was saying. Doubt, that he’d ever actually get he wanted, but that was familiar. Then the bitter anger that often followed, with pang of longing, and then the stubbornness he needed to do what needed to be done. Qrow stood from his chair. “I don’t like that after all this time, you’re still always right.”

“I told you, I didn’t think it like you to hide.” Summer hummed.

Qrow scoffed, but smiled at her. He ignored the pain in his side, and took the stairs two at a time to grab Harbinger.

* * *

Winter pulled back her hood, letting the snow fall gently from the cloak to cover the path behind her. The trees swayed in the wind, some of the tallest pines she’s ever seen. The gods were good and let up the storm. Though the mountain pass was still blocked, it was clear enough to find the road that led through the forest.

The chestnut horse beneath her stamped its hoof, shaking the snow from its hair. Winter left Lien at the post where she took the animal, though considering it was Avani’s anyway, she doubted it mattered much how much she left. Winter checked the envelope still tucked against her chest. She patted the horse’s neck. “Never believe anything you hear in a story at a pub.” She muttered, more to herself. Tales of evil bandits in the woods were meant to scare children, not to stop her.

Winter touched Shattered Ice at her hip, urging the horse forward. If nothing else, this can’t get much worse than what’s already been done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You ever think "I'm just add some angst" and you're proofing and then you're like "Oh it's all angst"...oops? But there's hope yet, our pair just needed some brooding time, some backstory, and some pushes in the right direction  
> Also, talk to me about Summer Rose head canons, I'm still a part of the dwindling "Summer has one eye" club and the almost non-existent "Summer is basically a literal god" club  
> Thanks for reading, as always comments give me hope and love (especially through midterm season)!!!


	8. But I am Not the Enemy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to anyone who's still sticking with me on this one, it was a ride to get this chapter finished. The end of the semester kicked my butt, and the holidays did nothing to get my spirits back like I thought they would. But, this chapter is the longest one yet! Thank you for your patience, and enjoy!

The bottom of the saddle bag held two, maybe three more days of food, if Winter was conservative. She was certainly no hunter, the rarely seen rabbits scurrying across her path had made it clear she was not considered a threat - not that Winter had come even close to catching one anyway.

The next town was, if the barkeep she spoke to was to be trusted, a half a day south. Winter was considering pushing the mare through the rest and sparing herself another restless night with barely anything between her and the cold ground. To finally sleep in a bed again, possibly see a doctor. The nausea she felt in the valley followed her and worsened. Every few days she woke up to be sick, but always it would pass. No fever followed, her feet ached despite riding most of the way.

Before Weiss was born, before her mother even announced she was carrying a child, Winter remembers how her mother knew. Told her that a woman knows these things, even when they don’t want to. Jacques even seemed to change, keeping Willow close and showering her with anything she needed, or even thought she wanted. Not that it lasted. Not that Winter had that now. And not that she could afford to worry about it.

She never would have considered traveling with Qrow and his caravan as luxurious as she did now. Winter had trouble thinking of a time she was ever alone for this long. The quiet among the snowy trees had slowly fallen from serene to maddening. Winter found herself humming tunes she didn’t even realize she remembered, and understanding much more easily why Wyn rarely stopped singing.

The forest remained peaceful, to her surprise. Winter hadn’t seen anything more dangerous than the elusive hares. At points the dirt path narrowed, was blocked by brush or disappeared altogether, but no sinking mud, nor roaring rivers, nor even a stray Grimm. The four swinging bodies from a sign on a directional post did not scare her so as much surprise her.

They were three men, one woman, cold enough that they either had been preserved or fresh enough to still be recognizable. Winter didn’t know which was more disconcerting. One of the men was hanging from his ankle, pockets turned outward and emptied. A warning.

The smell hit her horse, who huffed and backed away from the sign, Winter tugged on her reins and kept her steady. There was certainly no turning back. She took Avani’s money from her pouch hanging from the saddle, instead shoving the envelope into the inside of her cloak, and the same with Weiss’s letters. Winter let her aura surround her, though no one seemed to be around yet. She couldn’t be too cautious. Winter wrapped a hand around Shattered Ice’s hilt, flicking the reins southward to follow the trail.

It was quiet for another mile or so.

A horn, different from any war horn or ship horn she’s ever heard, sounded as an echo through the woods. Far off, it seemed, but louder than Winter expected. She saw thin lines of smoke through the trees, coming from a mountain just barely in view. The trail twisted sharply to face the mount, with three riders stopped on the side of the road. All were horseback, but resting. Two men were smoking, the other a woman eating some kind of meat on a skewer. Winter tightened her grip on reins but didn’t slow her pace.

The group laughed loudly at something she didn’t hear, one glancing down the trail to notice her. He slapped the other man’s arm, tossing his cigarette to the snow. All three turned, the woman nudged her horse to step to the other side of the trail. Winter’s horse carried on, until she was between them, the woman making a grab for her reins and tugging back sharply. Her horse stopped. One of the men held a sword in front of her chest and the other clicked his tongue.

“Toll.” He demanded simply. He sat high in his saddle, hands folded over the horn, with a rifle across his back.

Winter let out a breath through her nose, glancing to the otherwise empty trail. “This doesn’t look like a toll booth to me.”

The woman answered. “We need the money for the services, not the structures.”

Winter shrugged. She could give them all the money she has, she knows how this would really end. Better to play dumb, even if it was obvious. It’s been weeks, she was tired, and her mind was more concerned for her belly than she wanted to be. Winter needed all the advantage she could get. “I’m in need of no service.”

“For the mines, dear. Evil Atlesians coming down to enslave every poor bastard working there, us Falkes are here to stop them. A little support is all we need.”

“Is that what the war was for?” Winter cocked her head. “Good thing it’s over.”

“You’re funny.” The one with the sword huffed, the lingering smell of his cigarette reached Winter’s nose. “Don’t be stupid.”  

“I am, quite certain, that the war is over.” Winter nodded her head. “Or, I would gladly help you. For now, I’m on my way to find someone.”

The woman holding her reins moved to grab her arm. Winter pulled Shattered Ice from its hilt to slice it across her stomach. The woman gasped, though the saber probably only slit her thick coat, but her horse reared back and out of reach. The man with the sword pulled back to get a good swing, Winter’s glyph shielded her from the blow. She thrusted her saber forward, puncturing through his furs until she felt it pop through his skin. He screamed, another glyph formed from the point of her saber and she pushed back, fast enough to startle the horse and knock it off its feet. The third man was still scrambling for his reins as she kicked her own horse, darting along the trail.

Winter let out a breath, and kept Shattered Ice at the ready. Her other hand stayed wrapped in the reins, though she trusted the horse to stay on the path well enough on her own. She glanced back, the sword wielder was holding his hands against his chest on the ground. The woman was just steadying her horse. The third man chasing after her, keeping his legs tight around the horse and had his rifle already positioned against his shoulder. Winter thrust out her saber, the glyph that formed held up against the first bullet, but shattered at the second. A powerful gun, but her aura was strong. Her semblance could protect her.

She kept another glyph at her back, taking three more bullets before reforming one again. The trail turned sharply as it had before, lasting only a few hundred feet before twisting again. It was made to confuse new riders, slow down anyone who tried to run so others could easily take unknown shortcuts to catch up to them. Winter couldn’t see the gunslinger behind her, but heard branches cracking from the woods around the trail. A bullet whizzed past her ear, coming from the left side. Winter swung her glyph around to the left, but the trail turned again, and another bullet clipped the side of her shield as their position changed.

Winter shifted her shield, taking the second she had to control her breath. She took the risk and glanced ahead. A gate. Beyond it, the mountain with smoke stacks curling towards the clouds. She might be running into a camp, without a doubt unfriendly, but there were no guards. No protection to be seen besides the chain link fence surrounding the base of the mountain as she rode closer. A bullet shattered the glyph from behind.  

Winter heard hooves kicking up snow, opposite from where the man was firing from, to see the woman charging at her from the woods. The woman held up a spear, kicking her horse so it jumped at Winter, ready to ram right into from the side. Instead, the hooves met another glyph, blocking her attempt, and Winter _pushed_ , sending the woman and the horse sprawling back into the snow. She heard a snap, and a loud whine, but mostly her own blood pumping in her ears.

The cock of the rifle was too close now, her glyph was still forming when the gunslinger shot her horse out from under her.

Winter couldn’t help but cry out with the animal, her leg was caught under her as they tumbled. Her aura protected the bone from shattering, as it well could have, but it was her adrenaline that pushed her to keep running towards the gate. Winter kept the glyph at her back, another lifting her over the fence and landing well enough on the other side.

Those who saw her gasped, but not much acknowledgement came after. Only a few feet from the fence, there were people everywhere. A whole crowd shuffling slowly, some towards the mountain and some away from it. Winter didn’t bother waiting to be addressed, she pulled up her hood that had fallen, keeping it low over her face, and pushed her way into the crowd.     

Winter checked the inside pocket of her cloak, feeling the envelopes nestled against her, and let out a breath. She still had money, she could find another horse, maybe someone to take her by transport, or find a train - if they had one. With time to look, she found she was moving towards the mountain, but most were moving away. Signs were posted along the gate, all in old fashioned Mistralen. Winter blinked at the uncommon script, what she could make of it - for once, she blessed her teachers - told of mining regulations. Some were smudged out, from years of neglect or weather erosion, but others vandalized. The same black and blue symbol marking over all the old directions. Anything this far west would fall under Branwen control, though it wasn’t their symbol. And it certainly wasn’t their signs under the graffiti. A horn sounded, the same one from before, but loud enough to make her ears ring. If came from the mountain. Some people around her groaned, but kept trudging their way through the thick crowd.

It thinned only slightly as she got closer to the mines, the gate widened enough to allow for booths on the sides. An excuse for a market, though no one was animated enough in this cold to be selling anything. A shot rang out, some people ducked, others seemed unaffected. Winter kept her head down. Not out of the woods yet, it would seem.

“Lady?”

Winter heard the familiar voice in passing, barely registering above the regular bustle of the crowd, and the pounding of her heart. She kept one hand on Shattered Ice beneath her cloak, the other on the edge of her hood, like most folk trying to keep the cold away.

“Lady!” The voice again, this time nearer, pushing others out of his way. Winter pulled at her cloak, until a hand was around her wrist, a similarly hooded figure pulling her through the throngs of people.

“Hey!” She shouted, looking to those around her but they ignored her cry. She was shoved behind a booth, it’s owner busy with a customer, and immediately drew Shattered Ice at the man. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Saving a dead woman!” The smooth laugh caught her off guard. He pulled back his hood, and the bandana from his face. The fading blonde hair with gray ends, crooked smile. “Sorry, Schnee, But we’re in a similar position it would seem, you and I.”

“Wyn?” Winter relaxed her stance, flexing her fingers around the saber’s grip. Confusion whirled in her mind like a gust of wind. “How are you this far north?”

“We both have stories to tell,” he hummed, peeking around the corner of the booth to scan the crowd. “Maybe not for right now, though.”

“There are people following me.” The wind blew again, the hood over Winter’s hair falling back. Wyn shoved it back up for her.

“I noticed. Not often I see someone with as much uppity class like you trying to mingle with a bunch of sad miners. Come on, with me.” He offered a hand, instead of just taking her’s. Winter looked back to the crowd, unlikely to find any other friends within it. She let him lead her through the back ways of the market, squeezing behind booths and avoiding others trying to find their ways home.

The machine horn sounded again, louder this time. Winter almost covered her ears. They were getting closer to the mines and she didn’t even realize it. More people poured out of its mouth, along with smoke from the openings throughout the mountain’s base, down over the people. Wyn pulled his bandana back over his mouth, Winter followed suit with her sleeve. The smoke stung at her eyes instead of lungs.

Wyn helped her squeeze through a child-sized hole in the gate surrounding the market, opening up to a valley littered with shabby homes, piled up on one another, up the base of the mountain and covered with a mix of snow and soot. She followed him still, weaving through the skinny alleys until they climbed a home made from ancient looking timber, covered with sheets to keep cold out.

Winter felt water deep into her boot as she stepped in a puddle, deeper than expected, Wyn didn’t even look back. “You know this place well.”

“Aye,” was all Wyn offered in return. “You ever been to your fancy Atlas dust mines?”

The question came quickly, Winter instinctively stiffened. She checked her cloak for her letters from Weiss without realizing it. “No.”

“Hmm.” He hummed.

Winter eyed him, then the rest of slums. “If this was taken from the Kingdom of Mistral, why are there still workers here?”

“No workers. No slavers, either. Mine’s almost dried up, people just stuck around, even after it was liberated.” He shrugged, before jumping up to grab hold of a ladder, pulling it down with him weight.

“Liberated, huh?” Winter climbed up with him to some kind of awning about ten feet off the ground, made from grated sheet metal, rusted and melded around the wood. “That’s a nice way of saying ‘slaughtered everyone who ran it’.”

“And what exactly were your people going to do?” Wyn didn’t give her a chance to answer. He pushed his way into the stacked home, not offering any other explanation. Winter heard hushed arguing from inside, but listened. There was scraping from the home above them, a loud curse, and Wyn poked out from the door again. “Come on.”

“Did you kick someone out for me?” Winter frowned, but stepped inside as the wind blew again. She was surprised the whole structure didn’t creak at the gust. Inside was less like a home and more like a box, but kept the wind away. There was a kettle over a small flame under a hole in the ceiling, a ladder leading up into it, and a chest in the corner.

“They didn’t belong here either, like you or me. You’re supposed to be dead.” He told her casually, like how one would comment on how cold it was, and handed her a steaming bowl of stew that had been on the flame.

Winter wrapped her hands around the bowl, to keep from covering her stomach. She felt it churn. Gods loved irony, her mother had said.

“You, and Qrow.” He couldn’t hear Winter’s heart still in her chest. All at once it kicked back on, blood seemed to roar in her ears, as loud as the machine horn from the mine, or the wind blowing down from the mountain.

“You said. That- you said that Qrow?” She swallowed thickly, her fear flooding out her shame of stuttering like a child.

He sighed, crossing his arms. “Came to find out myself. But I thought you were gone with him, but, seems you’re not.” Wyn shrugged. “You don’t know?”

Winter shook her head stiffly, clearing her throat. “He was hurt, I know. We were played at the challenge, I tried to help. I was helping. Raven portaled me away and I haven’t heard anything since.”

“Seems everyone who was there is dead.” He nodded thoughtfully. “I heard she wiped out all of Broon’s Tribe, and anyone after who was with them. ‘Claimed it justice. Now everyone’s either scrounging for the Branwen’s allegiance or plotting against us. With the Falkes so close, and you and me being known to ride with Qrow for past few months, I’d rather not have find out whose side their on just on my own.” He gesture to the bandanna around his neck. “Came here looking to find out what happened myself.”

Winter looked up. “Raven’s here?”

“Close by.”

“How close?”

“Half a day or so, from what I heard. Though I doubt Qrow’s there, if he is alive. And if that’s what you’re lookin’ for.”

“Who else should I go to to get to him?” Winter huffed, and blinked. “What does that mean?”

“Well,” Wyn rubbed the back of his neck, glancing up to the ceiling, before shrugging again. “I know now you can well and handle yourself, but I also would’ve thought you’d try to take the first ship home.”

Winter felt her shoulders coil, her hands wrapped tight around the bowl. She poked at the meat floating. “I guess,” she felt foolish at being lost for words. Because of the consequences? No one would take her? How could she ever go back to her old life, as if Qrow was nothing? Months ago she would’ve rejoiced, no husband meant nothing truly held her here. She would’ve run back to Atlas before Raven or anyone else could chain her to someone else. Now, while the peace of being surrounded by family, and the safe promise of a thousand guards at her call was comforting, she’d never truly be comfortable again. No one in Atlas would speak of the things she’s done, even in the past hour, to get here. Let alone treat her the same. Perhaps that wasn’t what Winter wanted, anyway.

“You call me a Lady,” she huffed a laugh. “I guess I haven’t felt like one in a long time.”

Wyn gulped down what was left in his bowl like it was a cup, Winter just noticed he had one. “I wouldn’t exactly call you a bandit, neither.” He snorted, and shrugged a shoulder. “Though I guess Qrow’s always been like that a bit, too. Or was, maybe.”

He grabbed the kettle and shook it, already empty of whatever was inside, Winter hadn’t even sipped at the drink. She held out her bowl to him. “I might be with child.” Wyn’s hand paused over the soup, stunned, for once, into silence. “I haven’t actually said it to anyone.”

Or to herself. Or even let herself think it. Winter was starting to think maybe she didn’t even let herself notice the signs until they stared her in the face.

“What does ‘might be’ mean?” Wyn actually sounded concerned, if Winter didn’t know any better. More likely trying to figure out whether to take her to Raven or sell her back to her family. But saying it meant it was real, along with any consequences.

“Sometimes you just know.” She echoed her mother’s words. “I haven’t seen any doctor to check.”

“Probably won’t find one here more trustworthy than a spider.” The machine horn blasted again, nearly shaking the stacked houses. Wyn shows no outward reaction but a sigh, Winter kept her own annoyance at the sound within. “Eat something. We need to get back to the mines.”

“The dust mine controlled by the Tribe that wants to kill us both?” Winter rubbed her brow.

“The mine that definitely has less Falkes outside than in it, and leads halfway to exactly where you want to go?” His grin was back, the one she’s rolled her eyes at for months. “Last time I checked, Falkes’ control all around this mountain. It would take a lot to force them underground. I’ll tell you, it’s not where their pride wants them to be. You can go through them, or under them. At some point we’ll see more friends in those tunnels than enemies.”

Winter pursed her lips, and didn’t care how uppity it seemed to him. “You should have led with that.”

* * *

Ruby looked just like her mother, Qrow thought it was almost scary.

He’d told her to keep the toddler home, and that he didn’t need any help getting to the ship, and that Tai’s insistence on using his pull as a Xiao Long leader on getting Qrow _on_ the ship was enough of an embarrassment already. Tai had told him Qrow had bled on his floor enough, and wanted him out, jokingly of course. If Qrow has never seen him in battle, Tai would seem incapable of being aggressive to anyone, let alone honestly intimidating Qrow out of his home. His daughters, on the other hand, were.

On the dock outside of Vale, Ruby blinked with her silver eyes curiously. Both were big, seemingly knowledgeable for such a small child, and held too much trust for Qrow’s taste. She clung to Summer side from her place on her hip, sure, but Qrow still had an instinct to hide her away somewhere safe. Away from being out in the open. Away from himself, in some way or another.

“Please take care of yourself.” Summer snapped his eyes away from the girl, a sad smile across her lips. The wind blew her hair from her face. “The trip should take a week, maybe. No turning back allowed.”

“Don’t worry about me coming back.” Qrow assured. Her words would stay with him whether he liked it or not, a new sense of duty instilled in him. “Got some things to take care of.”

“It wouldn’t be all bad.” Summer shrugged. “After everything sorts out. The girls could have their uncle around.”

Qrow huffed a laugh. “Don’t know about that.” Ruby blinked at him again.

“From what it sounds like, Raven probably won’t be happy with what you’re doing. Maybe lay low for a while. The smaller villages here always need skilled fighters for the Grimm problem.”

“Sounds nice.” He slid his hands into his pockets.

She shifted Ruby on her hip, the two shared a look and Ruby mirrored her mother’s smile. “It is. Worth everything it took to get here.”

The blast of a ship’s horn broke the quiet between the three. Qrow heard a woman behind him say her goodbyes, and a promise, before running off.

Summer sighed contently, squeezing Qrow’s arm. “Don’t do anything too stupid, and you probably won’t break open that wound again.”

“I can try.” He forced a smile, but his stomach turned. Qrow felt tired, dreading the prospect of fighting anyone anymore, but Winter seemed to pull at his heart even from around the world. Qrow looked to Ruby’s eyes, getting a smile, then back to Summer’s, and longed to see Winter’s again. “Thank you.”

“You’ve said that.” Summer nodded to the ship, which blew its horn once again. “Go make good on your promises.”

* * *

For being nearly dry, the mines that ran deep, deep under the mountain were crawling with people.

Quite literally, Winter noticed. Surprising, for how long it took to reach this level of the mine. Her and Wyn walked for hours, deeper and deeper until she felt they might hit the bottom of the world. The machine horn above them was faint. The tunnels were wide, and tall enough to fit five men stacked on top of each other. It was lit, dimly but enough to see, by nets of yellow dust hanging from the ceiling. People of all kinds filled the space, hanging from thin ropes loosely nailed into the rock walls to dig out specks of shimmering dust from the cracks. Scavengers. She saw two children, one on the others shoulders with her arm deep into a hole in the wall, tongue sticking out in concentration. A young man wedges himself in a rift in the wall, using a tiny pick that looked more like a knife to weasel a crystal from the stone. A woman was lying in a sheet crudely nailed into the wall from both ends, a large chunk of the rock missing from the wall she slept beside, and another sack tied to her hip filled to the brim.

Those who weren’t mining were either resting or traveling. Winter kept her hood up and face covered, same as Wyn beside her, and many others trying to filter the underground air from entering their bodies. Wyn moves fast, weaving through the slow trudge of herd of people, knowing when to slow and blend in when three or four tribesmen made an appearance along the tunnel. Either Falkes or Branwens or others, Winter couldn’t tell, just trusted his judgement. The air and the crowd made her sick, her hands kept straying to her belly. In the hours she’s told Wyn about her baby, the more the thought solidified itself in her mind. It was foolish to deny it any longer, but the idea did make her jumpy. That somehow, these people would know, take that as their ridiculous idea of weakness and prey on all they could. The open air would ease Winter’s nerves, but the threat of more enemies that would actually take notice to her made it useless to turn back. Winter kept pace, one foot in the front of the other. She kept her arms under cloak, around her stomach, but one hand always close to Shattered Ice. There was no gain in complaining, or wishing, she had figured that the moment her father sent her off to Anima in the first place.

Now Winter’s carrying Jacques Schnee’s grandchild, and he might think she was dead. If Raven wanted her entire people to know, the word would spread quickly back to Atlas. Would he retaliate? Certainly in some way, it would be seen as cowardly to just allow ‘barbarians’ in Anima kill his eldest daughter and get away from it. Although, Jacques may have learned his lesson well enough the first time he took up arms against the Branwens. No, he wouldn’t risk that failure again. At least her mother would mourn, Winter was sure of it. Weiss may be heartbroken, as well. Though undoubtedly she would grow with Winter only being a distant memory, someone to honor and respect, perhaps hold a banquet in her memory, but would hold no real place in her heart.

The idea became intolerable, Winter felt her heart quicken, one hand moving to the letters inside her cloak. She was not dead yet, she would not be forgotten, and her sister would not think herself alone in the world. Make it out of a suffocating mine. Her child would be safe, with its father, even if Winter had to walk through all the realms of the afterlife to find him. Damn whatever Raven was scheming with telling the world she was dead. Winter would let her know she certainly was not.

Winter hasn’t noticed she was moving quicker than Wyn until the the crowd has thickened, slowed people to a stop even. Shouting was heard ahead in the tunnel. A man started to scream, Winter kept a hand at Shattered Ice.

“That is all bad news.” Wyn’s breath in her ear nearly startled her. He stood taller than her, taller than most others in the mine. He must see what the blockage was. “Falkes blocking the tunnel. Toll, from what it looks like.”

“I thought you said they wouldn’t be down here.” Winter hissed as he grabbed a hold of her wrist, pulling through the crowd as other stopped to try and see.

“I said they might not, but this works out.” Winter was following him again. To a darkened passage, carved out in a way that only revealed the path when one stood in a particular spot. Then it was impossible to miss, but hard to see once in. “If they’re down there, that means they’re not up here.” Wyn said, leading her through the tight space.

Winter grimaced at the soggy air, the sorry excuse for carved out steps as the passage turned upwards sharply. “I thought we went underground because Falkes _were_ up above.”

“Not this way.” In the low light, she could just make out him turning to face her, teeth spreading into a grin. “ ‘Leads to different path. There used to be a castle outside of the mountain, and a tunnel that led to a hot spring under the mine. When the upper levels’ dust dried up, people started digging around it, but the spring was supposed to be kept closed off. The way we came is the only way to get in, and to what’s left of the castle. Falkes control the front of the mountain, and if their in tunnel below it, that means someone kicked them out from behind. Someone must be Branwen.”

Winter nearly slipped on a crude step carved into the rock. “And you know that?”

“I know Raven. As much as anyone can, anyway.” Wyn scoffed. “If Falkes even thought about going against her, she’ll squash it best she can, taking their only permanent base makes her the one in charge.”

“And if it’s not?”

If she didn’t know any better, Winter thought she heard Wyn laugh. “We pass the springs first, at least we can die clean.”

He grunted, hauling himself onto a ledge. Winter followed, distantly noticing he didn’t offer a hand to help her. No matter how political they spoke, she could not forget how these people were. More importantly, she was thankful to be out of the narrow hole it took to get here. It was lighter, and wider. She had already been so unkempt since leaving Avani’s, the dirt that covered her from the mind was pointless to fret over.

Wyn wiped an arm under his nose, keeping low to the ground as he peeked around a corner. “One man.” He whispered, saying nothing else before rounding the corner. Winter rolled her eyes, pulling the hood back over her hair before following. What looked like a guard stood before another small tunnel, beyond him a wide path leading up. Wyn stepped lighter than Winter thought possible behind him, the butt his axe landing true to the back of the man’s head. He dropped like a stone.

“Graceful.” She sighed, her tiredness washing over her thankfulness, or curiosity to find which tribe the man was from.

Wyn smiled with teeth, gesturing to the tunnel. “A bath for the lady. Then we find out our fate.”

The tunnel grew dark for only a moment, before green and blue flickered against the blackened rock, lights from in the spring reflecting off the water guided Winter towards it. She stopped at the curve of the wall, voices echoing from the hot spring. Her heart raced for a moment, but Winter stayed where she was. Any information could be useful now. She sighed, and held her belly, waiting to see if a hot bath was worth the trouble.

“Is it still pulling?” Vernal. Years of memorizing countless important partners of her father’s faces led to a good memory. The smooth voice Winter had only heard once or twice still rang in her mind. From her wedding, and the last time she saw either of the Branwens. Later, she would be thankful that a known voice was better than an unknown. At the moment, it did not appease her annoyance.

“Not as much- Gods, unless you do that.” Raven answered with a grunt, then a sigh. The sound of water sloshing around echoed as well. “You’re supposed to be helping me relax.”

Winter suppressed a scoff, Vernal echoed her, though more playful. “I can’t well relax if you swing that damn sword the wrong way for your nerves and end up tearing your own arm off.” Winter rounded the corner despite her better judgement. Vernal’s smile died on her lips as their blues eyes met over Raven’s shoulder.

Out of the five circular pools of steaming water, Raven sat facing away from the entrance in the one closest to it. Vernal straddled her lap, face close to her's, and hands wringing out the muscle around heavy scar tissue in her shoulder. Only when Vernal recognized her did Raven turn her head. Winter was already halfway to the pool beside them.

Out of the corner of her eye, Winter saw the chief turn back to Vernal. “I don’t know why I expected anything else.” She sighed. Vernal shrugged, and knew to make her way out of the spring.

Winter ignored the quizzical look Raven bored into her and instead focused on the hot water she tested with a toe. She couldn’t even remember the last spring she’d been in, probably not since she left home, even long before. Winter dropped her cloak and the rest beside the tub, letting out a loud sigh as she lowered herself to the water. Already the steam seemed to flush out the grime on her skin, easing the aches in her muscles.

“Should I even ask how you got in?”

Raven’s question made her jaw tighten but Winter kept her eyes closed, relaxed. “Is he alive?”

The chieftain sighed, but Winter couldn’t hear annoyance, only her heart pounding hard against her chest. And she thought she could relax here. Raven turned to stare at the entrance, listening. Then, barely a whisper. “Somehow, yes.”

Winter couldn’t help the breath that escaped her. Her eyes closed, and shoulders dropped, she didn’t realize they were coiled at all until they hit the water. The iron that has settled in her chest seemed to lift slightly at her word. Raven had no real reason to lie, though it would’ve been easy.

“Is that why you came here?” The Chief did not, however, see the need for polite conversation. As if Winter expected anything less.

“To your bathhouse, or your absurd mountain in general?”

“It’s not mine.” Winter could practically hear the other woman’s flat frown. “Can’t trust any of these bastards, apparently.”

“Yes, I came here for Qrow.” The aside was more to herself, but Winter answered Raven anyway. “I’m not here to assassinate you. If that was your worry.”

“You’d be surprised. I don’t think I’ve ever changed my mind about someone’s stupidity as much as I have with your’s.”

“You haven’t had the company of many clever people, that’s for sure.” Winter finally turned to face her. “And I mean that as a compliment. I don’t know how you’ve survived as well as you have.”

Raven had an arm over the side of the tub, leaning her head against her hand. Her other hand wrapped over her shoulder - angry scar just starting to raise over the skin. Winter knew she was judging her sincerity, Winter herself was almost surprised that it was genuine. “You’ve spent time with my father. There wasn’t much of a choice.”

Winter raised a finger. “About that,”

“It wasn’t my original intention.”

“Fault doesn’t depend on intention.” She let herself beam at repeating the words Qrow had told her, what seemed like forever ago. “He was not impressed by your lack of communication. Practically begged me to leave.”

Raven mirrored her grin bitterly. “I’ve been dealing with the aftermath that you started. Taking care of every traitor coming out of the woodwork before they realize they’ve even exposed themselves.” Winter didn’t need to stretch her imagination to figure how Raven went about doing that. Wyn had told her as much. “I did not need to deal with you being so close on top of all of this.”

Every time, Winter feels the same anger in her chest with these people. “You seem very busy.” She pooled some of the hot water in her hands, letting it pour over her face, down her neck. She came here for a bath, by all the gods, she’ll get one, despite the company.

“What is the point of being chief over all these damned idiots if I can’t even have a bath to myself?” She sighed. “I thought you would understand that.”

“The purging of your own people is out of my experience.” Winter laughed, quiet and hollow. She forced her hands away from her stomach, and swallowed thickly. “Is he here?”

“No.” Raven answered immediately, but quiet. Winter glanced over at the sound of moving water. Raven looked over her shoulder, sighed, and lifted herself from the tub. She wrapped the robe around herself, letting her hair fall down her back. She turned to look Winter up and down. “You shouldn’t be in hot water for too long while pregnant.”

Winter caught herself gaping too late, her mouth shut with a click. “I didn’t-”

"That was a guess, but thank you for proving me right." Raven said. “You came here from Kalrav valley, by yourself, and somehow gained weight?” She patted her cheeks and shrugged a shoulder. “And I didn’t miss you practically shielding your stomach since the second you came in here.”

Winter scoffed, Raven hummed before she could say anything else, and nodded to the exit of the cave. She gave a look that let Winter know she was waiting for her to keep up.

"You want a doctor?" The Chief called ahead as Winter wrapped her cloak back around her shoulders. The cool air hit her harder than expected, goose flesh rising and her heard spun. "Some of them are useless, but I know all you up in Atlas love to fret over yourselves." 

As the surge of defiance came through Winter at the jab towards her home, though Raven wasn't entirely wrong. As soon as her mother started to show to be carrying her sister, she was seemingly whisked away. A Schnee couldn't lose a child. With all they had at their disposal, a Schnee who failed to bring a healthy baby was seen as deficient. A healthy birth was a celebration, a healthy mother was a prerequisite. Winter didn't even want to think about what her people would say if they saw her now. Even rumors of a Schnee alone, with a Branwen's child, Winter nearly shuddered. However, brawling and riding until the last moment possible, without the gift of even naming her own child, was not entirely favorable either. One step at a time. Her annoyance won over her self preservation. 

She knew her words were stupid before they left her mouth, but she seemed too wrung out to care. "We don't leave it up to chance. Or leave altogether." 

Raven's glare back at her was sharp as a knives, Winter felt too drained to flinch. The Chieftain apparently didn't want to twist that knife anymore, and stayed silent.

* * *

The light tug at the base of Qrow’s spine woke him, Raven’s portal swirling peacefully in front of his face. He hadn’t slept well on the ship anyway, it was rare he’d ever be on one, almost welcomed the chance to leave, if he didn't know what was on the other side. He dreaded a long journey, though this was not to be expected.

Qrow's anger washed over his muddled, sleepy confusion and he had Harbinger’s shotgun through the portal before the rest of him. The cold of the other side shocked him awake even more. Raven lounging in what looked like a rickety wooden rocking chair did not appease his anger, or make him want to lower his gun. Qrow resisted the urge to look behind him, he was stupid for racing in. She knew he wouldn’t hesitate to come to her, he could’ve walked right into some trap, if that’s what she wanted.  

She didn’t flinch at Harbinger’s barrel. “Can you get that stupid thing out of my face?”

“Convince me to think about it.” Raven sighed. She looked older, his mind supplied without his permission. Not entirely different from when they last saw each other, but definitely off. The bags under her eyes could have been shadows, it was twilight where he was now. Red rimmed her eyes, almost covered as her bangs were too long. She kept her arms folded over her chest. Qrow pushed aside whatever guilt bubbled up from noticing it, what it meant to get her pushed this far. “Were you gonna tell me about Summer, or let me keep carrying that with everything else forever?” 

She shrugged, and looked away. “How was I supposed to know that was the same girl?”

Answer enough. Qrow rolled his eyes, ‘shut up’ getting caught in his throat as he took in what was around him. The faded stone, ugly black and blue carpet with the same pattern hanging over the door. The window beside him let in the last of sunlight of the day, the woods striking him too familiar. He did know this room, he knew the whole castle. The longest they’d ever stayed in one place ever, and how disastrous it turned out by the end of winter. “Are we in Elbeuf?”

Raven scoffed. “You’re very quick. Have you made up your mind?” She added the question before he had a chance to even process the insult. He had other things on his mind besides where exactly his sister led him to.

Qrow snorted through his nose, and kept his eyes anywhere but his sister. He lowered Harbinger, they were alone and Magpie was sheathed, leaning against the chair away from her hands. The ugly rug caught his eye again, the Falkes’ symbol they felt some prideful need to plaster everywhere. The tribe was supposed to have changed it after his uncle had died, the last of his family line, though they never actually did. Qrow looked out the window, woods as far as he could see, and the smoke from the mine in the middle of them.

“I thought you were scared of this place.” It was a low blow, but he spat it at her anyway. “Trying to prove something? Falkes let you in here or did you take it?”

Raven shrugged too casually for his liking. “Took it. They didn’t expect it. Things have gotten complicated while you were away.”

“Where’s my wife, Raven?”

“So you have made up your mind.” She sighed, uncrossing her legs and stood. Qrow noticed she left her sheath leaning against the chair. Raven hugged her arms close and stood by the window with him, looking directly below them, not out to the woods beyond. “I can’t remember if I jumped from this one or from the one in the other tower. I know it was on this side, though.”

She was wasting his time, or playing him how she knew to. Raven had said she was past this over and over again, Qrow was not taking the blame this time. “I’m not doing this with you.”

“If it was this window, they cleaned the ledge. I don’t know why, though. The rest is still a mess.”

“Raven.”

“She’s resting in the west tower, where Lessa stayed.”

How Qrow remembered that room exactly was beyond him, he was already turned towards the sheet serving as a door.

“You should know something.” Raven stopped him, with a look that told him she was not just biding her time. Qrow ignored it anyway.

“Oh, now you want to tell me things?”

“You can be pissy with me all you want, but I need to know that you’re not going some dumb look on your face the second your wife tells you she’s carrying your child.” Qrow’s face must have shown his surprise before he felt it himself. Raven’s tone hardened even more. “I am not lying to you.”

“You’d better hope not.” He wasn’t angry, despite how he sounded. Qrow felt numb, in fact. The racing of his heart told him he certainly felt something, but what exactly it was did not make it to his brain. “She told you this?”

“After a little persuading, but yes.”

Qrow swallowed. “How...long?”

“You don’t care about that.”

She was right, he really didn’t. And it finally struck Qrow that he felt guilty - Raven got what she wanted, but it wasn’t guilt for her. Winter risked not only her life when she followed Qrow to clean up his mess, and he made little effort to repay her. Weeks she been alone. He sulked in a bed that wasn’t his and got drunk the first chance he had. It took Summer to get his head out of his ass, Tai to find him a way home. Winter’s been fighting the whole time. Qrow would have swam back to Anima if he knew.

He pushed the sheet hanging in the door aside, ignoring Raven’s calls to him as he brushed past her guard outside. Qrow pushed past thought of why she would have them posted, or how well he remembered the castle. Different people, Branwens this time around, all who he ignored. Some looked at him twice, Qrow just pushed past, practically running through the halls.

Fear hit him on his way. Like a hammer right to his chest, Qrow almost stopped in his tracks. The same fear that’s followed him for years, hanging over his head every time he feels the spark of his semblance in his spine. After every stumble and misfire everyone’s taken because of him, the same fear washed over him. Now he thinks it’s a good idea to run headfirst to his wife in the same position that made him run from his own sister years ago out of that same fear. He was at fault for so many deaths, he didn’t want to be the cause of one that hadn’t even been born yet.  

Before he could even slow his step, longing in his heart pulled him forward again. Winter had made it clear she was not to underestimated. She entered their marriage - for as heinous as it seemed at the time - with vows and all, and if she could keep them, so would he. Summer said she’d fight for the world for the ones she loved. Whether he deserved that or not, he’d do the same for Winter now more than ever.

The west tower had a spiral staircase, a set of three steps a floor above the main hall were loose, Qrow instinctively knew to skip over them - profoundly easier than almost ten years ago. He counted chamber doors, feeling foolish to knock on the one he was looking for, he entered immediately after, shutting the door behind him.  

Winter had Shattered Ice at the ready, no doubt alarmed from his intrusion. Her hair was tangled, face flushed and eyes dark, splotches of dirt on her skin like she was only half washed, and a ratty cloak fell over her shoulders. Her eyes were bright and blue and everything he missed. A rush of joy hit his chest, Qrow felt his throat begin to burn. He froze in place, though his heart leapt. Winter knew to act for him, throwing her saber to the side and closing the gap between them. She wrapped his around over his shoulders, burying hiccupping breaths into his chest. Qrow nearly stumbled backwards, hugging her closer to him as he felt his eyes well. What exactly he had been expected, Qrow wasn’t sure, but this was better than any of it. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, his head spun as he planted a kiss to her hair. “I’m so-”

“I love you.” She sighed into his chest, squeezing closer if possible. Her hand trailed up to neck, curling into his hair. Her voice grew tight. “I love you, I was so scared for you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Winter shook her head, looking up to meet his eyes. Her hand went to his jaw, running her thumb down his cheek. “It doesn’t matter right now.” She blinked wetly, huffing out a laugh before she kissed him. Qrow kept one arm around her back, the other cradled her cheek.

“I love you.” Qrow whispered when they broke, wasting no time to close the gap between their lips again. His back hit the door, Qrow slid down so she sat in his lap. He pushed her hair away from her face, away from her eyes that were reddening by the second. “Please don’t cry.” He croaked like a child, laughing at himself. “I’m sorry. I’m here. I should’ve-”

“I know,” she nodded and mirrored his grin. “It’s okay. I…” She lost her words, kissing him once more. Qrow rocked them back and forth, running his hands up and down her back. Her hand covered his when it rested at her hip. “I’m, I am,” she was laughing still. Happy, or nervous, Qrow couldn’t tell. He shook his head, pressing their foreheads together.

“I know.” He echoed her own words. “It’s okay now. I love you.” She could be mad at Raven later, if she cared at all. He pushed away his own thought that his sister wasn't actually lying to him. It didn't matter anymore. He thought himself stupid for nearly turning away from her. Their hands went to her stomach, though she hadn’t swelled yet. It felt right, like being together, they were supposed to be together. He made himself promise before his age-old worry caught up to him. “I love you, and we’ll figure everything out. I’m not leaving again.”

“I’m not going, either.” She nodded, holding his hands close to her. Her breath evened out, swallowing thickly. “Whatever’s next, don’t leave me out of it.”

“I don’t think I can even try.” Qrow laughed.

“Good.” Winter pressed her lips to his, moving to curl her fingers in his hair again. She drew her legs to be more in his lap when they broke away from each other. Winter rested her head in the nape of his neck, he kept one hand tangled with her’s by her stomach, the other cradling her back as they sat. What was left of the dusk sun sank below the wooden horizon, they stayed with each other.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks so much for your patience with this one. To be transparent, a lot of what took so long is actually deciding what I wanted to do with Winter, hopefully it comes across the way I mean it to. Very Winter-centric, too, but Qrow got the spotlight towards the end :) They need a moment together before whatever else comes their way  
> Wyn returns because I like him and Winter needs a friend.  
> With Elbeuf, there is a story there that I'm still on the fence about, but wanted to include a little bit of it, just in case I feel the need to bust that out at some point after this finishes up. I'm getting too attached to this universe, I'm afraid.  
> Thank you so much for reading! Comments are greatly appreciated and anything is encouraging!


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